Book of One Shots
by parmigiolate
Summary: Collection of my one shots from my Wattpad account. Currently writing more chapters so requests are welcomed :)
1. Antivist

**Westfield High School April 20th, 1994 11:00am**

"Okay class let's open Of Mice and Men to chapter three. Chloe, you start reading," my young, and nerdy, teacher mutters from the front of the room so low that I can barely hear him, being that I'm in the middle of the classroom.

I begin to doodle as the annoying cheerleader starts to yell the words of the book I enjoy but everyone else seems to hate. I've read this classic at least ten times so there's no need for me to pay attention, so I sketch my usual drawing: a skeleton and a girl who is floating with her arms reaching towards the boney creature.

"Violet?" I hear Kevin, the boy who has had a crush on me since the first grade, murmur. I instantly look up and see him towering over me and notice the entire class has left. "We're headed to the library. Remember?" he says while alternating between leaning on his heel and planting his foot back on the ground.

"Right," I breathe out a long sigh. Our class is working on a research paper and today we have the _privilege_ to work in the library with our _wonderful_ librarian. We walk to the media center side-by-side but don't talk much. Kevin tries to make conversation but I'm very out of it today. Something is off at Westfield High, I just know it. "Violet?" He huffs. I look up from my fumbling fingers and into his eyes. He really is attractive with his dark hazel orbs and long brown hair that sits at his shoulders. He's wearing a black leather jacket, which makes him all more appealing. Over the years he has become attractive, but also quite. "Will you go to prom with me?" I immediately inhale sharply. I hadn't planned on going and didn't expect Kevin to either. "I've been wanting to ask you but haven't had the courage until now. Violet…I like you," he gulps after finish his sentence.

I stand facing him in disbelief. I wouldn't mind going on a date with him, but prom? I hate this school and absolutely do not want to see any of my fellow students when I don't have to. Besides, the dance is in a month and most dresses are gone. Luckily, before I can answer our teacher opens the library door and yells for us down the hall. "Harmon, Gedman. Let's go!" I quickly speed walk down to the entrance leaving Kevin behind, but promise myself I will get back to him after class but first I need to find a way to tell him no politely.

While logging onto the Mac computer I hear Chloe and her varsity football boyfriend, Kyle, chatting about sex. I roll my eyes and sink into the chair as I pull up my half typed paper on modern society. I'm researching how young people, specifically high school students, are mostly useless. Well, that's my version but of course I have to make it sound presentable and not as mean, so the topic I've officially used is young peoples good impact, or lack there of, on society.

"What's your paper on?" a deep female voice blurts while motion to my screen. I look to find Stephanie, one of the girls I can actually stand, smirking and leaning on her seat.

"How high schoolers suck," I confess with a chuckle.

"Nice. Mine's on how cheerleading harms football games."

We both burst into laughter but quickly hush our selves. "I'm sure Chloe will love to read that," I comment and Stephanie nudges me and places her index finger over her lips.

"Bitches like her are the reason I wrote this."

"Ladies! You're not working much. You'll have to spilt immediately," Mr. Carmichael, the annoying librarian, demands and then points to me. "Go sit over there," he gestures to the corner table with no computer. I sigh loudly and roll my eyes.

"Violet!" Stephanie whisper-shouts. "Wait for me after class. I want to give you my number." I nod and lug my bag to the corner where the old table sits and don't even bother digging my English notebook. Instead I doodle in my sketchbook and listen to Rooster by Alice In Chains with my Walkman.

About ten minutes later I look around and realize our teacher is gone and Mr. Carmichael is busy debating the importance of the Dewey Decimal system with some nerd, so I sneak out. When I finally reach the 'fresh' air of the halls I light up a cigarette and pray no one else is lurking around. While in the girls' bathroom I smoke two more cancer-stick and finally decide to head back to my class.

On my way I hear glass-shattering screams but assume it's some girls making a scene over a broken nail so ignore them and shove my headphones over my ears. With the sound of Pearl Jam blaring through my head I don't realize my surroundings so it's not long before I bump into someone- specifically a tall, muscular man. I look up and the person is gone so I turn around and watch him run frantically towards the teacher's longue and shrug at his rudeness.

Eventually, I make my way back to the library and being mere feet from the doors a large hand on my shoulder stops me from entering. I instantly turn around and am met with a man wearing navy civil war soldier jacket and blonde tangled hair; however his appearance isn't the first thing I notice. His shotgun pointed inches from my chest is what catches my attention.

"T-Tate?" I choke while trying to suppress tears. How could he do this? We were friends in art class and I've only been nice to him!

"Who are you?" he grunts.

"Violet," I mutter while shaking and allowing hot tears to stream down my cheeks.

"Oh right," he says while scanning over me. "This will be easy. You want to die." I look up at him and realize he's extremely high.

"N-n-no I don't! Please I-I don't want to die. I-"

"I saw you drawing about death in art. You're reaching for it Violet. I'm going to give it to you," he insists while wobbling.

"N-no Tate. I don't. I'm scared. I...I don't know what'll happen," I confess. This is the first time I've ever admitted I'm afraid.

"It'll all be okay," Tate assures me.

I open my mouth to object but he grabs my arm and throws me in the closet. "Stay here," he demands before locking the door.

Fifteen minutes later the door opens and I pray it's the police but of course it's Tate, except this time he's covered in blood. He actually killed someone.

"Let's go!" he screams and grabs my bicep once again, leaving a fading yellow bruise.

As we exit the school I wonder why the police aren't here ready to shoot him and where the entire school is. Surely he couldn't have killed everyone in that amount of time. Instead of asking I keep my mouth shut to spare the gory details and go along with the psychopath. Tate shoves me into his new Honda Accord and then quickly hops in the front and speeds off. He constantly checks the rearview mirror but unfortunately the cops aren't on his trail. I peer out the window to keep my mind off the fact that he may torture me and kill me when we arrive at our destination. I'm not sure why he didn't just shoot me and end this madness but I'm hoping whatever happens next isn't worse.

For being high out of his mind Tate drives surprisingly well. I hear the click of a lighter and instantly turn my head to Tate who is sparking up a blunt. "Want some?" he asks while holding the intoxicating smoke in his lungs. I vigorously shake my head since I don't want to be vulnerable. Plus I've never smoked or even drank.

After five minutes of painful silence Tate croaks, "I know you cut yourself." I immediately lift my gaze from the ground and furrow my brows at him. How does he know and why does that matter right now? "I've seen the scars and cuts. They're deep. Why do you do it?" he slurs. I begin to formulate an answer until he slams on his brakes and swerves lanes, nearly missing the car in front of us. I just shrug my shoulders and pray he won't continue with this subject. "Tell me," he grits and speeds up.

I take a while to come up with an answer but finally have a reasonable one. "I...my parents. They don't care about me. My father cheats and my mom drinks to ignore it. They fight everyday and completely forget that I exist. No one really notices me at school- and when they do it's just to be friends during class. My only companion moved two years ago," I respond and lie back in the chair.

"You shouldn't do that," he blurts and then slams on his brakes again and curses under his breath.

Two hours of silence and frequent puffs of his marijuana later Tate pulls over to a rest stop and jumps out of his seat. Then he opens the door and ties my waist to the chair and hands together. "Take off and I'll shoot you and leave you for the wolves," he threatens before running to the bathroom. Ten minutes later he arrives with two full plastic bags and a sweatshirt. "Put this on," he mutters after freeing me from the restraints. I slip the large clothing on that says Nevada on it and assume we've entered the state although I missed the welcome sign.

Tate turns on the radio and plays the news station, and I assume he's checking if any word of the shooting is on. Fortunately for him there's a quick discussion but they haven't identified the criminal yet. Tate was barely recognizable at school until his shaggy hair was pushed out of the way to reveal his unique dark eyes and facial structure.

"We're going to Utah," Tate informs me before turning up the radio to block out my response. Instead of speaking I close my eyes and lie back to attempt to sleep but the loud noise from the window being open prevents me so I think about the life I left behind instead.

My parents will believe I'm dead, which will probably cause them to finally divorce. They were bad parents but the only ones I had, so I do love them and miss them much right now but since Tate plans to kill me eventually I'll never see them again. I now realize I should've tried harder with them instead of mopping in my self-pity.

The words 'Westfield High Masacare' drag me out of my thoughts to pay attention to what the woman is saying. "Some of the victims have been identified and the police have released their names. Amir Stanley, Kevin Gedman, Chloe Stapleton, Kyle Greenwell, and Stephanie Boggs were all found shot in the library. The other victims were shot several times and faces are too mutilated to be recognizable. We'll have the full update at ten and who the police suspect committed this mass murder."

As the reporter says the victim's names I feel chills run up my spine. Tate really did kill people today; I had a small amount of hope that he might have just injured some teachers and students but he actually took lives. I keep my eyes shut and face towards the window to hide my tears. Then it hits me- he killed Kevin! I was going to arrange a make up date with him, but now he's dead and I let him believe I didn't like him. My wrists burn and beg from attention from my metal friend but it's at home and Tate would never allow me the pleasure.

I repeat the list of dead students in my head and realize Stephanie was also announced. She was so sweet and just like me. We were both loners who found each other recently but Tate doesn't care. He didn't discriminate against his victims. To him, blood is blood and he needed some on his hands.

I ponder about Chloe and Kyle and actually feel sympathy because although they were annoying and often rude, it was just high school. They could've changed and become something important. Any of Tate's victims could've changed the world.

Last is Amir. I didn't know him well but he was easily the smartest student in our school, and probably more intelligent than most teachers. Tate took all their potential and brightness away when he pulled the trigger and now I'm stuck in a car with this psychopath.

"Violet!" Tate screams, thus ripping me from my silent memorial. "I've been calling your name for two minutes. Answer me when I speak to you," he growls.

"O-okay," I murmur while gripping the seat.

"Why are you so quiet?" He asks while looking at me.

I gulp and prepare an answer but can't think of a good one. "I... I don't know." I can't tell him the real reason, because he kidnapped me and is crazy, so I have to just keep him off the topic.

"No, there's a reason. Say it and I won't hurt you... too bad," he smirks. I shake my head and look back out the window. "I know what it is," he comments and places his rough hand on my thigh. "You knew them."

I instantly look over at Tate and see his once harsh expression is now soft and a half smile is spread across his face. Truthfully, I've always had a crush on Tate since he moved here last summer. His large house is a block from mine but I always saw him walking around with a cigarette between his lips. He was intriguing to say the least but anytime I would make conversation with him he'd cut it short and act as if he's busy so I eventually stopped trying.

So, when I discovered we had art together during the second semester I made it my mission to befriend him and surprisingly I did. We were the only people in that class who took it seriously and that's why we became partners. But alas it was only a friendship in class; anytime outside of the room he would return to ignoring my existence.

Avoiding his inference I ask a question. "Why didn't you want to be my friend?"

"I thought you were trying to play a joke on me," he grunts and grabs a joint. He's most likely been high since the moment he woke up.

"Wha- why would I do that?" I screech and immediately regret asking.

"Because Violet you're the perfect girl. You're just like me- but also different in your own ways. My first impression of you was that you're the most attractive woman I've ever seen and therefore you couldn't be interested in a relationship with me," he says while staring at the road.

I inhale sharply and process all he's said. He thinks, or thought, I'm beautiful? More importantly he thought I was like 'them' and going to play a cruel trick on him? "Why didn't you give me a chance?" I ask but it comes out like a whine.

"I don't know," he hisses.

I decide not to provoke him any longer and try to accept my fate- what ever it may be.

"Get up," Tate grumbles in my ear from the door. As I stand up he latches on to my bruised arm and leads us into a motel. "How much for a room?" Tate asks the lanky boy at the front desk.

"Fifty-nine dollars," he states while blankly staring at me.

"We'll take a room. And stop staring at my girl," Tate finishes his sentence with a muffled curse. The dark haired man hands Tate a key and glances over him and then at his hand attached to my arm.

Tate immediately drags us to the second floor where we're staying. When we open the door there's one large bed and a nightstand. There's also an en suite that Tate pulls me to. "Shower," he demands.

I nod my head and remove the sweater and when I tug it off my head I hope he's gone or at least turned around but he's staring at my body. "Can you close your eyes?" I plead but Tate only chuckles and shakes his head, so I take my long sleeve Nirvana t-shirt off, revealing my black bra, and tug my jeans down. My cheeks are burning and I'm sure my entire body has turned scarlet but I do as I'm told in fear of getting hurt. Once I'm only in my bra and underwear I walk towards the shower but Tate's grip stops me. "Take it all off," he commands.

I turn around to give him a pleading look but he doesn't seem to care. "I'm not going to buy you any more things so you don't want them to get wet," he explains. "I'll turn around. Let me know when the curtain is shut." I nod my head at the sudden kindness and gulp before unhooking my bra. I face the other way incase Tate is watching but when I slide into the shower I look back and he's actually turned towards the door.

"I'm in," I mumble before turning the knob, letting the steaming water hit my pale skin.

Ten minutes later I rinse the last of the motel's complimentary conditioner out of my hair and twist the lever to off. I peek from behind the curtain to see if Tate is in the bathroom and he is. "C-can I have a towel?" I mutter, which causes Tate to shoot his head up from his twiddling thumbs and straight at me. He nods his head and lets out an 'mhm' before walking to the rack and grabbing a towel. He strolls over and hands it to me so I quickly wrap it around my damp body while behind the curtain and then I step out without warning Tate, which earns a fast head whip form him.

Eventually I put on the sweater but decide to be pant -less since the top reaches my knees while and then decide it'd be best to sleep on the floor, but Tate doesn't agree. "Get on the bed," he orders. I hesitate but soon I crawl on the rather small mattress and lie as close to edge as possible, but Tate instead puts a chain around my neck and locks it to the bed. "Just in case," he smirks before spooning me.

I wake up to the sound of men bickering and when I open my eyes I realize I'm in the car and Tate is arguing with an older man. I wonder when he started driving but don't bother since this could be my chance to escape. I stare at the two men and figure Tate won't notice until I'm deep in the woods, so I slowly creek the door open and crawl. When I finally reach the edge of the guardrail and stand up to bolt but upon doing so I trip over a rock thus making a loud thud. I look to Tate praying he's to invested in the fight to notice but he whips his head to me and runs. I bolt and hope that I can lose him once I enter the abyss of trees. Unfortunately just as I'm about to cross over into the only hiding I can find I feel Tate grab my arm and yank me back. "What the fuck!" he growls before knocking me out.

I awake back in the car and tied to the chair, but we're still in parked on the side of the road, but I notice Tate standing on by the trunk. When he slides in I see his shirt is bloody and he has the shotgun in his hand. As we drive away I turn back to see the man from earlier lying on the floor in a pile of blood.

Why hasn't he killed me yet? This couldn't be a plan but a horrible impulsive idea. "Violet?"

"Ye-yeah?" I answer.

"I didn't give you a chance because I was ignorant. I never met someone like you and didn't know a person like you even existed. By the time I found out how great you are it was too late. I was already a dick. I figured I might as well keep the act up because I hate exposing my true self to others. I'm not an open person," he confesses while continually switching his gaze from the road to me.

I open my mouth to respond but stop. "You're so beautiful Violet," he coos while running his hand up my thigh. "I... I wish things were different," he sighs. "I want to be honest with you Violet. I don't know why I killed those people. When it happened... it felt like I was watching myself do it and I was begging it to stop. I needed it to stop, but the drugs and the voices wouldn't let me. B-but then when I realized it was you, I gained some control. I don't know what happened V-Violet, but that's why I dragged you with me. Since you've been here the voices aren't as loud," Tate admits.

I lie in the cloth chair and close my eyes. I want to help Tate but he could be lying to me so I stay. While looking his eyes I decide to tryst him but still keep a sight guard up. I don't know what believing him will and I don't know what that means to me. He needs my help but am I ready to give it to the man who murdered two of my friends and others? What if he has another episode?

Just as I'm collecting my thoughts we pull up to a large house in the middle of the woods and Tate slides his wandering hand to mine and squeezes it. "We're home."

 **. . .**

When we park in the spacious garage Tate gently pulls me out of the car and unties the tight rope from my aching arms. When he notices the red rash on my wrists from the rough restraint he looks into my eyes and then kisses the scarlet marks that blend with the scars of my past. "I'm so sorry," he confesses.

"I-it's fine. Can you tell me why we're here?" I plead.

"I will. First, let's unpack and eat," Tate responds in a soft voice. I nod my head and walk to the trunk to help with the bags he brought.

"I'm sorry I didn't pack anything for you. I…I wasn't expecting anyone to come with me," he confesses. It's sort of a relief to know he didn't exactly plan my kidnapping but now I'm more nervous because he could just get rid of me whenever he pleases without much guilt. "Don't worry I'll get you some clothes and all you need tomorrow," he promises with a smile.

After he finishes putting his belongings away he walks to the kitchen and turns around to gesture me to follow. As I walk through the large home I notice that there's only one television and computer. As crazy as it sounds I don't want to leave. If I return home there won't be much to live for. After all my parents probably are signing divorce papers at the moment since I was the only thing stopping them.

"So what would you like? I can make pasta, steak, or salad," Tate asks while staring at my stocking covered thighs that are showing from my dress riding up.

"Um, whatever you're having," I murmur before tugging my dress down.

"Okay, well while I'm cooking would you like to order some clothes online? I have a PO box in town so I can have a friend pick it up," he shouts from the kitchen as I lie on the extremely soft couch. I mutter a yes but don't think Tate hears it, so I'm surprised when he walks over with his laptop five minutes later and wakes me from my rest. "Order whatever but don't do anything stupid Violet. I'm going to trust you," he growls before he walks back into the kitchen.

After dinner I still feel uneasy about being here with Tate not knowing his intentions so I decide to snoop while he's in the shower. Unfortunately for me I couldn't leave this home if I wanted to because the home only has one door that has three locks and code that only Tate knows. If I somehow I escape a loud alarm will ring and notify Tate, who will be extremely upset and have no mercy on me when he would discover me.

Little does Tate know, I have no desire of escaping and more of a need to know what's happening and why. As I assumed, he did not tell me everything after we ate the steak he prepared for us. Instead he swiftly cleaned up and darted to the bathroom before I could even process any of it.

So now I am looking through his drawers for a clue to his next step but only hit dead ends. As I'm rummaging through his large closet I find a small box tucked behind a duffle bag. However, my hopes of digging through its contents are immediately shot down when I notice the lock. I tuck the small container under my shirt and carefully tiptoe to the en suite to check if Tate is still showering. The beating of the water on the floor confirms my hopes so I quickly grab a knife from the kitchen and try to pyre the lock off.

Just as I think I've opened it, I feel a damp hand clutch my shoulder. "What are you doing?" the person, who I figure it Tate, asks.

I instantly spin around to face my captor. As Tate stares between me and the broken lock, I feel my palms become clammy and my heartbeat quicken. While focusing my gaze at his water droplet covered bare chest I search my mind for a believable explanation that doesn't give away my actual intentions. "I...I, uh, I was looking for something to do. Be-because I was bored and-"

"Violet," Tate interrupts me and trails his hand down to my bicep and the clenches it. "Don't lie to me," he hisses.

"Tate, I'm sorry. I just wanted to know-"

"You don't trust me?" he growls and tightens the grip on my arm.

"W-well, you did take me against my will and haven't told me anything," I murmur while keeping my eyes glued to the grey carpet.

"Let me show instead." I instantly look up from the floor and try to figure out what he means by that, but before I can ponder long enough Tate kisses my lips, which causes me to stumble backwards and inhale sharply.

However, I don't pull away. Instead I reciprocate and even run my hands through his curly blonde locks while moaning lightly.

A few moments later Tate pulls away, leaving an aching feeling on my lips, but to my surprise he shoves me onto the large mattress and quickly attaches his soft mouth onto mine once again. This time he instantly pokes his tongue at my bottom lip, begging for entrance. I gladly allow the nerve filled muscle to connect with mine, which sends tingles straight down to my core.

Tate must notice my eagerness because he swiftly forces his knee between my thighs and crawls over me without ever detaching our lips. I continue to groan but this time it's loud enough for Tate to hear. Instead of talking things slow, like I thought Tate had planned, I feel my tights rip and a cold hand touch my core through my underwear.

At first I am hesitant because he could be doing this to force me into a vulnerable state but after a minute of resisting I no longer have strength.

When I finally spread my legs Tate quickly yanks down the torn stocking and tosses them behind him. With my eyes open I watch as Tate slowly inches his lips down my neck and ultimately to my collarbone.

Then Tate slides my cardigan and dress strap off my shoulder and places light kisses. As I feel my stomach flip from joy I remember what he did to our classmates- innocent people, and suddenly I'm not in the mood. Apparently Tate can tell because he looks up from above my breast and into my eyes. "What's wrong Violet? Don't you want me?" he asks in a squeaky voice. I notice his eyes have become glassy and his lips are shaped into a frown.

"I...I do. But you killed those students! They were good people!" I reply while scooting back to the headboard.

"Violet," Tate mutters while crawling towards me. "I told you I didn't know what I was doing. Please forgive me. Please," he begs.

I take a deep breath and contemplate my options. What Tate did was horrible and almost unforgivable, but since it seems we'll be together for quiet some time I'll have to forget all he's done. Plus, Tate is extremely attractive. "O-okay," I mumble, and it only takes Tate half a second to connect his lips back to mine.

This time he's quicker with his movements, I suppose so I don't change my mind once again.

As mouth is sucking on my bottom lip and lightly poking his tongue at mine, I feel his calloused hand travel up my thigh. "Violet," Tate whispers as he pulls away to peel my grey cardigan off my body and then stares at the yellow sundress loosely hanging on my body. Then, before I can react, Tate slides the straps off and then yanks the dress off; thus leaving me only in my undergarments, which instantly causes me to blush all over. "You don't have to be shy. You are beautiful," he assures me as he fingertips move down my collarbone to the tops of my breast.

Once he pulls my breasts out of the cups I throw my head back as he takes one of my nipples between his fingers and pinches. I suppress moans and bite my bottom lip as he continues to rub the erect nub, but finally let out my pleasure when his warm, wet mouth sucks my nipple in. "Tate," I mumble barely loud enough for him to hear. I continue to arch my back slightly at his touch until he kisses down my abdomen. By then I my hips are up in the air and my middle is begging for his touch.

"So eager," he smirks before placing his plump lips on my thong. "Violet, you're soaked," he says with a nose laugh. I instantly shy away and try to retract my body but Tate's grip doesn't allow it.

As he bites my inner thigh and licks my seeping juices, I feel his growing bulge press against my calf and a ripple run through my veins at the thought of him inside me.

However, the cool breeze hitting my damp core rips me from those images. "Mmm," Tate moans as he slowly slides one thick finger from the bottom to the top of my slit. I watch as he brings the glistening finger to his mouth and pops it in to suck it. "You taste...heavenly," he grunts before swiftly forcing his head between my legs and places hard licks on my throbbing clit.

"Oh Tate," I utter as he inserts a large finger inside me, and I shut my eyes to feel everything that's being done. Tate pumps his finger with much force until he adds another. With the two fingers filling me up, he thrusts slowly, adjusting to my tight walls. "You're a virgin aren't you?" he huffs.

"Yes," I admit between breaths.

"As am I," Tate growls and then returns to pleasuring me.

Unable to wait any longer, I tug on Tate's collar and beg him to come up to me. Luckily, he complies and attaches his shiny lips to mine and massages them. While our lips are lightly attacking one another's I trail my hand to his crotch and gently massage his growing erection.

I feel the vibrations of his moan enter my mouth, and I instantly become more turned on- so much that I couldn't resist the urge to separate our lips and focus on removing the suddenly tight pants on Tate. As I peel down his jeans I look up into his obsidian eyes that are currently filled with lust. I slowly slide down his Hanes boxers, which allow his fully erect cock to spring out. "You like what you see?" Tate grunts as I take his length into my small hand and quickly move my hands up and down his veiny length.

"Yes," I breathe out. He smirks but quickly changes his reaction when I shove his member into my mouth. As I bob my head up and down on his erection he grunts and moans while tugging on my hair.

A few minutes later Tate pulls my hair, causing me to lose my grip on his member. "I'm about to cum. I want to do that inside of you," he confesses and then throws me on my back. "Let's lose this together." I feel a shiver down my back as his hot breath dances on my ear.

Just before he pushes himself inside me, Tate lifts his t-shirt over his head to reveal his defined abdomen. Although he didn't have a 'six-pack', one could definitely notice he works out and spot small lines that are forming. I trace my finger around his chest and down to his waist. Finally, he pulls off my bra, leaving us both naked.

With his first thrust I feel the limits of my middle being pushed and blood trickle down my leg. For a few moments the pain is intense and almost unbearable, but finally I adjust to his thickness and begin to feel the insane pleasure everyone speaks of. As if my body couldn't be any more pleased, Tate slides his hand to my middle and rubs circles around my slippery nub.

"Fuck Violet," Tate grunts between kisses, "you're so damn tight!"

I smile and grab his hair to force him back to my aching lips. With every pump of his large cock I claw at his back and know his back is covered in scratches and cherry marks.

Within minutes, time slows down and the fire that has been pooling in my lower abdomen finally begins to leak but then floods out all at once. The contraction of my walls sends me into loud eruptions of begging and screaming 'Tate'. Moments later I notice Tate's plunges become sloppy and quick. As his warm liquid begins to fill me up Tate nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck and calls out my name.

Once he's finished, he rolls off me and snakes under the comforter. When his eyes close I hop out of bed to gather my clothes but Tate's grip stops me. "Cuddle with me," Tate begs with a pout. Instead of answering I grab Tate's t-shirt, slide it on, and the climb back into bed to spoon him.

A few hours later I wake up to find myself wrapped in Tate's arm. I glance over to the clock and read 3:28am.

I contemplate whether to disturb Tate from his slumber and eventually decide to give into my selfish needs. "Tate?" I whisper in his ear. After a few nudges and tugs his eyes creek open and glare at me.

"What time is it?" he grumbles while stretching, revealing his toned stomach.

"Can you explain everything to me?" I plead and avoid his question.

Tate rubs his face and simultaneously sighs. "I've already told you about the shooting. So I'll tell you original plan. I decided to come here, to this home, after I committed the crime. I've made some friends through my drug dealer and he told me about this house. He said it could be mine if I paid him a certain amount. He assured me no one would ever find me here. Of course I took the offer and bought it. I warned him of my plans and he fled. I had someone stock the home for my arrival. Paul promised to help me when needed so he will be our connection to town. I didn't plan to drag you in this Violet. I'm so sorry for that. B-but like I said, when I saw you I felt some control. I needed you. It was selfish. But now I'm giving you a choice. You can stay or leave. I won't stop you," he finishes and then shifts his gaze to the walls.

After a minute of taking in his words in I make a life changing decision. "Tate," I pipe as I roll out of bed. "I think I've fallen for you. But you're psychotic. You're full blown insane," I pause and gather my bra and dress, "However, I can't imagine life without you. I'm staying."

The frown instantly wipes off his face and his velvety doe-eyes look up from his hands. "R-really?" he stutters and attempts to nonchalantly wipe his tears but of course I notice.

"Yes Tate!" I insist as I hook my bra and slide my cotton dress over my head. "No matter how twisted this sounds, I'm glad you found me. I'm glad I ran into you by the library," I admit as I plop onto the bed and snake my arm around Tate.

Instead of answering he places a kiss on my nose and then pulls us down to the mattress once again. "Let's sleep, Vi."

"Okay," I mumble before closing my eyes and relaxing my body.

|Two weeks later|

"Thanks Paul!" I hear Tate shout from the front door followed by a loud slam. As I stir the soup I've made with vegetables from our large garden and homemade ingredients, I hear Tate's footsteps move closer. "We've got more meat and milk!" he cheers while putting away the groceries his ex-drug dealer brought us.

"Wonderful! Dinner's almost ready," I say, indicating Tate to set the table.

After we eat the meal, clean up, and fit in a quick fuck, Tate grabs a bag of popcorn and turns one of the DVDs Paul brought us.

Halfway through Silence of the Lambs, I begin to doze off. However, the loud of distant sirens forces my attention to be heightened. I look over to Tate whose eyebrows are furrowed and his lip is quivering. "Go to the my closet now. There's a hidden door. Hide in there and do not leave until I tell you. Here's the key. You have to find the knob first. Go now," he demands as he forces me into our bedroom.

"Tate, what's happening?" I whimper.

"Go!" he shouts. "I love you so much," he exclaims before kissing me and shoving me into the door.

"I love you too," I shout as he shuts and locks the door.

A few minutes later I hear doors opening and several people screaming. I recognize Tate's voice but there are many others that I don't recall. Sounds of gunshots remove me from my attempts to understand the situation. I instantly sob and realize it's the police coming for Tate. They finally found him.

I debate whether or not to go out and expose myself to the authorities, but decide to wait until they leave so I can say a proper goodbye.

An hour later I hear the sound of the front door slam. I slowly step out of the tiny closet and begin to assess the damage. Plates and chairs are scattered over the floor with gun shells scattered around. The remains of the walls that were hit by stray bullets sit on the floor. I notice a small, shiny pool in the middle of the floor. Knowing what it is, but no accepting it, I walk over to see if my assumptions are correct.

As I bend down to touch the sticky liquid I finally understand it is Tate's blood- he's dead. With the image of him being shot multiple times tears pour from my ducts and don't have intentions of stopping. I lie down next to the puddle and allow the salty liquid to stream down my hot face.

"Violet?" I hear a familiar deep voice croak. I keep my eyes closed and figure it's my imagination trying to cope with the loss of someone so dear to me. "Vi!" the voice shouts, demanding my attention.

I sit up and force my eyes open. I nearly scream when I spot standing before me Tate with his arms dangling and a soft smile on his face. "Tate," I murmur as I stand up and slowly inch closer to the figure. "This can't be real," I whisper as I caress his cheek.

"It is real, darling."

"B-but you died," I say with tears in my eyes.

"I know," he replies, "but I'm still here. I'll always be here."

"How?" I ask while twisting his hair.

"I didn't tell you everything that night," Tate explains as he grabs my hand. His touch feels the same and still sends ripples of nerves around my body and forces my skin to become clammy. He leads us to our bed and sits down next to me. "I knew the police would find me eventually. But when I was purchasing this home Paul informed me of it's...powers. Well, if you die on this property your soul doesn't leave. You're permanently here. I planned on killing a girl here with me to keep my company. But then you came along. I'm not going to kill you Violet. I don't want you to die. I want you to leave and live your life."

I inhale loudly as he finishes his confession. How could this be happening? More importantly how can I live without him?

Before he can stop me I grab the pocketknife sitting on the nightstand and quickly slide it across my the delicate skin covering my throat. As the blood pours out I begin to choke and Tate immediately grabs my throat and tries to stop the blood. "Violet!" he screams with tears in his eyes.

My surroundings begin to fade and become blurry as Tate's cries slow down and I feel my body become limp. Before my world becomes black I hear Tate scream, "I'm sorry!"

. . .

Violet sits up quickly and takes in a deep breath. As Tate picks her up she notices her body lying on the bed surrounded by a pool of blood. They don't exchange words but instead kiss as Tate carries Violet down the hall. The make-out lasts several moments until they arrive to the couch. Then Tate places her down gently and begins to tell her every reason he loves. In that moment Violet lets every sliver of doubt fade as he places kisses up her arm between the love poem Tate conjured during the minutes she spent lying dead.

Finally, she's found the place she belongs: death.


	2. Fast Times At Westfield High

**A/N: This is inspired by the song Fast Times At Clairemont High by my favorite by ever, Pierce The Veil. They are pure awesomeness and I love with them with all my heart. The song really reminds me of Tate! So without further ado, enjoy :)**

This can't be happening, Tate thought to himself as he peered around the corner in the school hallway1. The jock that he hates is inviting the girl of his dreams to a pre-prom party. He was supposed to the one going to the stupid school dance with Violet- not Kyle Greenwell.

"Yeah, it'll be totally cool. We'll have some alcohol, some food because I heard the food at the venue sucks, and a limo will get us all," Kyle mutters while trailing his fingers up Violet's arm.

"Sure!" she squeals. Violet isn't too fond of Kyle or his friends but she is trying to break out of her shell since she'll be going away for college in the fall. Truthfully, Violet was a loner, with the exception of her in school friends. Her only true companion disappeared in the eighth grade, which doesn't do much for Violet's social life.

Tate clenches his fist and snarls his lip while trying his hardest to not kill Kyle on the spot. Tate had always had a crush on Violet, being that they're the same age and neighbors. Plus she was one of the only people who is kind to him. Since a young age Tate has felt attached to Violet, and at one point they were friends, but when Tate took a year off for therapy in middle school Violet's family forbade her to associate with him because they deemed him crazy.

Even though Violet had stopped thinking about Tate many years ago, Tate always had her on his mind. Whether it was about her long, silky brown hair or her glassy eyes that twinkled in any lighting, or her snarky attitude that she wasn't afraid to give anyone, he could never get her out of his thoughts. However, he didn't always have pleasant images of her. One day when he saw a guy flirting with her by her locker he thought of killing the tool and hurting her- punishing her for what she's done. Luckily, he snapped back to reality before damage could be done.

"See you then," Kyle calls from down the hall and waves at Violet so effortlessly. Tate longed for her attention and it seems like prom is his last chance.

Violet sulks home and tells her mother the news she's been waiting for: she has a date. According to her mother, Kyle is a wonderful guy and would be the perfect boyfriend. On the other hand, Violet believes he asked her to make his ex, Chloe, jealous. He had probably asked Violet only because she and Chloe had be enemies since the third grade spelling bee.

Violet slips on the dress her mother picked out today. From the looks of it her mother actually compromised. The exquisite dress is black and floor length; while the sleeve are long and neckline reaches her collarbone, the posterior has a large V that exposes her toned back. When she walks out of the room in the fitted outfit, her mother squeals and lets a few tears drop from her face. "This dress was made for you Vi!" she exclaims while spinning her to face the full-length mirror. As she studies the possible prom dress she notices how the fabric hugs her breasts and waist, accentuating the curves she's so proud of. She turns around and admires how the wide opening not only makes the outfit look expensive but also shows off her butt.

Meanwhile, Tate sits in his room trying to figure out how to get invited to that party. He could ask Leah, the girl who gives him head from time-to-time, but then she'd want to hang out with him. After a long pondering, he decides to just sneak in and do whatever it takes.

When the irritating screech of his mother rings through his ears he lugs himself to the stairs but not before checking out his tuxedo that he's had for months. He's not sure what color Violet's dress is, but if she has a say in it then it's definitely black, so he bought a black tie and dress shirt to match her.

The next morning Violet wakes up to screams from her mother about today being the day. She groans and rolls out of bed to get ready for school. Unfortunately, she has to be in class for half a day to be able to attend the dance, so she doesn't even try on her appearance since someone will be doing her hair and make up later on.

Tate arrived at school behind Violet and watches her as she struts to the building, noticing how effortless she looks but still beautiful. Although Violet has never had a boyfriend, he doesn't know if she's a virgin, like him. He wants to be her first everything.

Later on Tate overhears Chloe talking about the party tonight and gets some details of where and when. Finally, the fifth period bell rings, indicating seniors are free to leave for the day. Of course, Tate slowly creeps behind Violet as she drags herself to her Jeep.

Once Violet arrived home, she spots her mother sitting in the living room with her make up artist friend. They both squeal as she's dragged to the bathroom for prepping, but Violet isn't excited because she hardly wears make up and surely doesn't want her hair to look poodle-like.

So it was surprising when Violet looked into the mirror two hours later to find her hair in romantic waves, pieces pinned up, and her make up in a light smoky eye. She fell in love with her look and wished it were permanent.

Tate on the other hand, didn't try to hard, although he did gel his hair back and drown himself in cologne. He knew Violet would get a ride from her mother to the party since she plans on drinking so he decides to wait until they leave to get on his way. An hour later when she finally steps out of the front door, Tate gasps at her appearance. She doesn't look innocent anymore- no- she looks sexy, and his crotch realizes it too. The way her dress fits her curves could make Tate climax but he holds himself back because he believes he'll be inside Violet tonight. However, when he discovers the back of her dress he can't help himself. Her perky butt causes his member to become stiff and he has no choice but to relieve himself while he watches her twirl around in the dress he hopes will be on the ground by his doing tonight.

Upon Violet's arrival to the extravagant home she slowly walks to the gate and makes her way to the backyard where the music is blaring. After a few minutes of standing in the corner and darting her eyes for Kyle or anyone familiar, Violet finally decides to let lose and grab a drink. With one cup of some intoxicating substance down she grabs two more and searches for her date. However, she bumps into someone on the way and realizes it's her neighbor, Tate. "Sorry," she slurs before attempting to walk away.

"It's alright Violet," Tate coos and grabs her wrist. "Did anyone tell you that you look gorgeous tonight?"

Violet instantly looks up at Tate and tries to get a better look since she's drunk and didn't pay much attention to him. She gasps when she studies his face. His hair is slicked back, the style she loves, and he is wearing all black, like her. They almost look like a couple and Violet sort of wishes he asked her since they are more alike than anyone here, but then a grunt interrupts their staring contest.

"Violet?" Kyle's deep voice questions.

She immediately leaves Tate's grip and turns to her actual date. "Hi! I've been looking for you!" she shouts and wobbles as they link arms. Before walking too far away Violet turns around to look at Tate and notices that he isn't happy.

As Violet and Kyle dance to some vulgar song on the radio Tate clenches his fists and uses all his will power not to kill everyone at the party. However he does watch Violet sway and down more alcohol as the sunsets on the California sky.

At the doors of the large venue Tate waits for Violet to enter with her idiotic date. They stumble up the stairs and don't even notice Tate holding the door open, so he trips Kyle. Unfortunately for Tate, he doesn't fall but only stumbles.

Violet does hate the crowd she's with right now but with all the tequila she's drank it doesn't bother her anymore. "I love this song!" Violet screams and begins to move her shoulders and arms. Although she actually doesn't know the track, since it's by some mainstream rapper, she enjoys the beat primarily because she's wasted and just wants to let out her energy.

Meanwhile Tate stares at Violet from the corner of the ballroom and grips the weapon he brought with him, just in case. He stares at all the guys surrounding Violet and thinks to himself how they look like sharks surrounding innocent blood. So, in order to save her he must get her away from the 'beach boys', as he deemed them freshmen year.

Tate is very aware of his good looks and charming aspect, so he uses that to his advantage. He spirtz himself with more cologne before struting over to the slut he's too familiar with. "Hey doll. Mind doin' me a favor?" Tate asks Leah with a devilish smile.

She instantly perks up and allows a smile to grow on her face. "Sure!"

Once most of the guys, including Kyle, are distracted by Leah's revealing prom dress, Tate moves in. "Hey," he huffs.

Violet spins around and nearly falls into Tate's arms. "Hey!" she slurs and drags out each letter. "I didn't know you'd be at prom!" she gushes, even though they saw each other at the pre-party.

"Yeah. I decided to show up." Tate then begins to trace his fingers on Violet's arm and she seems to be enjoying the sensation because she is smiling up at him. However, the moment is short lived because Kyle stumbles back.

"Let's go Vi. Get away from this freak," he grunts before yanking her by the arm to the dance floor.

This infuriates Tate to the point he decides the jocks have to go- for good. As he watches Violet struggle to stand, he plans his attack. Never taking his eyes off Violet, Tate strides to the DJ and slips him a twenty-dollar bill. "Play the best dance song you have."

Then Tate walks away slowly and waits for some poorly written pop song to blare through the speakers. Finally, the Electric Slide begins to play and most of the attendants storm to the dance floor. Luckily, Kyle leaves Violet behind. As the crowd performs the choreographed moves, Tate snakes between people and makes his way to Kyle. He has to go first, Tate mutters before plunging a sharp knife into his back.

With a wide smirk, Tate moves along swiftly and slices the neck of three more members of the beach boys. Somehow, the others are too absorbed in the mindless music to notice what he's done. After murdering ten people, Tate quickly sneaks off to Violet who is still belligerent. "Let's runaway," Tate says with a hint of panic in his voice.

"Wha-why?" Violet asks while trying to stand up. She isn't sure where Kyle went, because it seemed like ages ago that he walked to the dance floor, and she isn't even certain about her whereabouts- that's how drunk she is.

Tate doesn't let her finish because he knows that people will begin to realize what happened soon and he must get them both out of there before that happens. However, Tate's manhandling somehow sobers Violet up a bit and she begins to resist. "No! I want to stay. Why do we have to leave" she whines and stomps her stiletto covered feet.

"Violet please!" he begs and constantly turns back to check on the situation. By now a few students have noticed the dead bodies and are trying to get help but the drugs and alcohol has impaired their skills. "I don't want to hurt you!" Tate shouts while gripping her bicep with a lot of his strength.

"But you are!" Violet cries back and tries to escape his tight grasp. Why is he doing this, she thinks to herself, but her brain won't allow her to ponder long enough to form a theory.

"I'm sorry," he instantly coos and rubs the spot where he nearly bruised Violet's delicate arm. "I just... Violet I love you!" he confesses while ushering her towards the large doors.

When the life changing words slip from Tate's mouth Violet becomes stiff. How could he love her when they hardly knew one another? Sure, they're neighbors and were once friends in childhood but Violet hasn't had a conversation with Tate, or his family, in years. "How? You don't know a thing about me!" she shouts as they exit the building.

"I know everything about you! I know you don't like Kyle. I know you didn't want to come. I know you're obsessed with Nirvana and Pearl Jam. I know you plan on going far away to get away from everyone. I know you smoke. I know you cut," Tate pauses for the last one because he's sure that'll spark some emotions. Sure enough, Violet's eyes become glassy and a stray tear falls from her eye. How could he know all that?

"But you don't know what it's like! Waking up in the middle of the night scaring the thought of kissing razors-"

"Of course I do!" Tate screams and yanks down his sleeve to reveal faded red scars and even a few scabs. Violet gazes at his tainted skin in awe. But how does he know all this? "We belong together!" he murmurs while helping her get into the car.

"Y-you stalked me!?" she asks loudly.

Tate ignores her statement and slowly walks to the driver's door and slides in. "You're so melodramatic Violet. But it turns me on," he growls and traces his hand up her clothed leg. "But I have to take care of some things first. I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't leave, okay?"

Violet, still being intoxicated, nods her head and doesn't realize what's going on. Truthfully, she believes she's hallucinating from a roffie that Kyle probably put in her drink or something.

As Tate storms from the double doors into the venue he notices people frantically standing around the dead bodies, while most others had fled. He calmly walks over to the small crowd while a grip on his gun and then pulls it from his coat pocket and slowly inches the barrel to one of the girl's head. As she turns around he pulls the trigger, blowing her brains out. This earns the attention of the seven others in the room and he instantly shoots the nearest four.

After killing everyone in the venue he tosses his suit jacket on the ground and strolls out. Once he makes it to his car he smiles at the sight of Violet still waiting. When he slides in the seat he stares at her before vigorously connecting their lips. Moments of kissing later, Violet pulls away and wipes her lips. "This isn't right...I don't-"

"I just wanted one night Violet. One dance," he insists and then reattaches his aching lips to hers. This time, he wastes no time and begins to grope Violet all over. "I've been saving myself for you," he mutters into he kiss while leading her small hand to his bulge.

However, the sexual acts are short lived when the irritating sound of sirens screaming hit their earn drums. Tate smiles because he knows the end is near but it upset because he couldn't go all the way with the love of his life. Without breaking the kiss, he pulls something from his pocket.

Violet notices the click noise and opens her eyes. She can't make out what's in his hand but she becomes worried and pulls away.

"No," Tate protests. "You know I would die for you?" He looks at her with glassy eyes, and Violet is sure he's going to kill himself. Of course, she's right. As his wrist is gushing blood he utters, "But if I die, you die too."

With that he slashes her throat and then holds her as they bleed to death with the sound of sirens fading. He even lets out a small smile as he feels this ended perfectly- like a movie. There they lie dead as the moon paints them blue.

 _ **"I've been saving myself for you.  
The sharpest thing I find for you,  
'cause I was saving myself for you.  
I've been saving myself for you.  
I saved myself for you.  
Don't you know I'd die for you?  
I saved myself for you.  
(Without you what's the point?)"**_


	3. It Was A Dare

"Um, truth," Madison says while twirling her long bleach blonde hair.

"What really happened with Nick and Jennifer?" Queenie asks with her arms crossed and rolling her eyes. Jennifer is Madison's stepsister and Nick is, or was, Jennifer's boyfriend, but ever since last week we haven't seen either of them.

Madison straightens her back, cracks her neck, and then giggle. "Well, Nick was hitting on to me so I went with it of course. And we were getting really far, being that his face was in my pussy," I choke on the water I was sipping but Queenie just snorts, "and then Jennifer walked in and totally freaked out! Like she could've just joined! Anyways, Nick immediately got up and went to her side. He was saying how I'm just some slut! He was saying horrible things about me right in front of me!" She begins to get upset and clench her fist. "So, my emotions took over and I 'accidentally'," she uses air quotes, which indicates that it wasn't a mistake, " knocked over the bookshelf. But, they're okay! I mean, yeah Nick may be in a coma... but he'll be alright," she says with a chuckle.

Nan gasps and Queenie grunts, but I roll my eyes. How typical of Madison so blame the victims. "Anyways, it's your turn Zoe!" Madison says while clapping her hands and licking her lips. "Okay truth or dare!" she squeals.

I take a deep breath and sigh, "dare." I hate this game because most of the time the questions and dares are sexual and insane.

"Yay!" she screechs. "Okay, I have a really good one! I dare you to walk to the Boch's and ring their doorbell...naked!" She yells and then bursts into laughter.

Nan and I look at each other with furrowed brows, and Queenie laughs too but at Madison's stupidity. "I'm not doing that," I say with a monotone voice. The Bochs are an old couple that occasionally has their grandson visit from college, and Madison is extremely interested in adding him to her long list of ex-lovers so she will do anything to get his attention.

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. "Oh come on! You're so boring Zoe." She looks around to the girls for support but neither of them agrees with her. "Ugh! Fine. Hm," she says while tapping her chin. "Oh! I got one. Okay, I dare you to sneak into the morgue up the street and stay inside for ten minutes!" She says and then hops to her feet. My eyes grow wide at her insane idea but then Nan applauds her and encourages me.

"Come one Zoe. It's not risky and it could be fun!" Queenie insists and Nan nods her head.

I peer from them to Madison and then sigh. "Okay fine. But you all are coming and Madison is driving." I demand before standing up to grab my combat boots.

Once we all hop in Madison's expensive sedan, she blasts rap music the entire way and only turns it down when we park. She faces me in the passenger seat and begins to explain the rules. "You have to sneak in through the back door, stay inside for exactly ten minutes, and bring a souvenir out. If you chicken out you must do the first dare I suggested or be stuck all three of our homework for the next two weeks. Deal?" she says and looks back at the other girls.

I swallow hard but except the challenge, so I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door. As I step onto the gravel I look at all three of them one last time and then slam the exit shut and brave myself for the pungent smell of rotting corpses.

When I approach the door I take a bobby pin from my hair and wiggle it in the lock, like I've seen on television. After a minute it surprisingly works and the click of the knob indicates I have gained access, so I creek the door open and slowly enter. I make sure not to close it all the way but enough that no one can tell someone broke in.

As soon as I step all the way in I am hit with the horrible scent of death and nearly puke, but then I remember what is at stake and suck up my discomfort. I set my stopwatch and walk around to pass time. Luckily, there are no dead bodies lying around so I have no nauseating images.

I grab a scapula to bring back as proof I entered and then peek around more and walk towards a small room and then slide in through the small crack in the door. The room has one table and a few drawers to hold bodies. I cringe at the thought of opening one and thank God that I'm not in here permanently.

I hear a loud crash and become frightened, so when I turn I'm shocked to find a man fumbling over a body. Luckily, I don't think he's spot me so I run and try to squeeze out of the exit, but before I even make it a large hand yanks me back by the shoulders and startles me.

When I am faced with the person I scream because he is covered in blood and his button up shirt wide open. Overall, he looks like a mess and possibly a murder.

I open my mouth to speak but am cut off by the mystery man's hand covering my lips. "Don't speak," he demands and tightens his grip of my wrist. I nod my head and fight back tears as I gaze into his empty eyes, but then the large light shuts off, leaving two small lights flickering in the corner. I notice his blonde hair is drenched in red liquid and stuck to his forehead, which nearly covers both his eyes.

Before I can protest, the person drags me to one of the metal tables and forces me on it, but my sobs stop him momentarily. He stares at my shaking body and looks into my eyes; only being inches away can I take in the features of his face better. His dark brown eyes pierce mine and his pink lips do not move form the straight line they're in. He resembles an angel, dark but still an angel. "Wh-what do you want?" I ask while gulping.

He chuckles and trails his finger up my arm. "You came at the wrong time sweetie," he mutters before he hops on the table, causing it to wobble and make loud clanking noise. He covers my mouth again and looks at my body.

Then he takes out something from his back pocket and I shut my eyes. If I'm going to die I don't want to watch.

Instead, he places something sticky, which I open my eyes to find out is tape, over my mouth and then raps plastic tie around my wrists. "You'll have to stay here. I can't let you go yet," he growls before returning to his work. I watch as he shoves a body into a slot and cleans up the area. By the looks of it he killed someone and is hiding the evidence.

Next he washes the blood from the ground and scrubs a bit. Then he peels off his shirt, which is covered in blood, and I gawk at his toned chest and feel my cheeks burn. As he tosses the shirt into the garbage slot and then yanks down his jeans. As he reaches for his wallet in his jeans he notices my stares and chuckles. "Like what you see?" he asks as he chucks the pants down the same shoot.

Instead of giving him satisfaction, I close my eyes and turn to face the door. After a few moments I try to reach for my phone that's in my back pocket but just cannot. I hope that one of the girls sneaks inside to find me soon.

Just as I'm about to attempt to roll off the table to escape, the man walks over in new clothes that are a bit too tight. "What shall I do with you," he says with a chuckle as he taps his finger on his chin and gently rips off the tape.

"I promise I won't say anything...I-I-"

He cuts me off with a finger to my lip. "What did you see?"

"N-nothing. Honest!" I insist but he clearly doesn't buy it.

"Sorry doll but I can't trust ya. I'll think of a way to keep you quiet..." he trails off before walking around the room.

I shiver as he strolls behind me and touches the edge of the table. "What's your name?" he blurts.

"Zoe," I state without any emotion.

"I'm Kyle. I suppose you have some questions for me so ask away." He continues to walk around the table and scanning his eyes all over my body.

"Just one, actually," I say with some attitude.

"What's that?" Kyle asks.

"Can you let me leave?" I beg.

Of course, I receive a long chuckle from him but then he shakes his head. "No can do- not yet at least."

I sigh and decide to ask a meaningful question. "Why did you kill her?" I ask as if I know he murdered her.

"She deserved it," is all he says before hoping on the metal slab next to me. "She was my mom. B-but she hurt me...several times. I couldn't let her get away with it again," he mumbles. "Why did you sneak in here?" he inquires while tucking a hair behind my ear.

I look up at him while still laying on the table. Does he mean she raped him? Instead of continuing with the uncomfortable subject I answer his question. "It was a dare," I mumble and silently curse Madison for forcing her to play that idiotic game.

"Ah, what horrible timing." I nod and shut my eyes. I'd rather not look at his alluring face and become more attracted to my captor. "So Zoe, how old are you?" he asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Twenty." I don't ask anything about him because I don't want to seem as if I care.

But nevertheless he gives detail about his life. "Perfect...I'm twenty as well," he says with a grin. I furrow my brows at his statement because I'm not sure why that's a good thing but quickly return my face to it's normal blank expression.

However, I jolt when Kyle slides off the table and circles me once again. Once he reaches behind me he stops and touches my cheek. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

I gulp and force a half smile, but instead of pouncing on me as I expected, Kyle just walks around the table another time. So I close my eyes and rest easy until I feel the table shake and look up to him hovering me with a wide smirk. Before I can move Kyle rips the restraint off my wrists and pins each one above my head. He then licks his lips and slowly bends down to my pale neck. I squirm as he sucks lightly on the skin under my ear but he only tightens his grasp on me. "S-stop!" I yell but it comes out more like a moan, which only causes Kyle to chuckle and return to pleasuring me.

After a minute he swivels to my mouth and kisses me with much force. At first I resist because I am attracted to Kyle but am also afraid of him. But eventually I allow my sexual tension take over and I move my lips in sync with his. He must know how bad I am in need of pleasure because he works his body perfectly with mine.

I buck my hips when I feel his cold hand move up my leg, nearing my middle. He smirks into the kiss at my reaction but I just pull his head closer. As we make out I realize how wrong this is and how fast we're moving so I try to shove him off me. When we separate he stares at me with his eyebrows dipped and head titled. "What's wrong?" he asks while still on top of me.

"This is crazy! You're keeping me captive... I just want to return home. I won't-" He shuts me up with his lips and this time he rakes up my maxi dress to my waist to reveal my new lace underwear. I moan when his finger tips grace my inner thighs and trail close to my aching core. "Oh you haven't been touched in a while Zoe?" he asks as his hands easily tracing over my panties since my legs spread wide. I nod my head and raise my hips, begging for more. "Be patient," he insists as he slowly inches his way up to my underpants and slides them down.

Finally, they're to my ankles and Kyle yanks down the neckline of my dress to begin massaging my breasts while dancing his fingers up my leg. I bite my lip as he alternates between pinching my nipple and cupping the entire breast. "Kyle," I finally let out as he draws circles right by my warmth. He grins at me and then sticks his finger in the opening of my hole and then swipes up to my nub.

I cry out at his movement and throw my head back. After a few minutes of him pumping his thick fingers inside me, Kyle stops and crawls on his knees to lean over me. He kisses me roughly and grinds his clothed crotch onto my naked one so I can feel his growing bulge.

A few minutes later he removes my swollen lips from his and stares into my eyes. Then, he sucks on my nipple while tracing circles around my clit, which causes me to grab his wet curls and pull lightly from all the stimulation. As if I couldn't feel any better, Kyle snakes down to my middle and latches his mouth onto the nub and immediately forces a high-pitched scream to escape my mouth as he sucks it into his mouth and pokes it with his tongue; but of course he doesn't stop there. Kyle also sticks two fingers inside me and curves them upward to reach my g-spot. I practically bounce on his face and he simultaneously thrusts and sucks.

After a minute I feel myself nearing climax and force my hips up so high that my entire back is almost off the table, but Kyle pushes me down and forces me to be patient by moving back up to my face. When he does, I instantly latch onto his mouth and attempt to force him on his back but he won't allow me to take control. Instead, he pulls his jeans down and rubs my neck. I swallow hard as I stare at a boner barely being covered by his boxers. At first, I rub his middle and feel how large he is, but then I slowly tease him by grabbing the shaft through his underpants and imitate jerking him off.

Of course, Kyle becomes uneasy so I yank down his drawers and his length immediately springs up. I gawk at the size for a moment but then spit in my hand to rub him but he shakes his head and shoves me gently. I understand his gesture and slide his erection in my warm, wet mouth.

His moans fill the room with the bob of my head and they become more frequent each time I increase the suction pressure.

After a few minutes Kyle pulls me up to him and lies me on the metal slab. Then he crawls over me and looks into my eyes. For a moment I catch a hint of care in his eyes but it's instantly replaced when he shoves his length inside me unexpectedly. I dig my nails into his back and moan when he pushes quickly. His mouth moves to my neck and he leaves more love bites as his cock fills up my core.

He surprisingly lasts a while because fifteen minutes late he's still plowing into me, and I feel a fire pool in my lower abdomen and my breath quicken as his hand rubs circles around my raised knob. He whispers, "your tight pussy is driving my hard cock insane," in my ear and that drives me to edge. I feel my walls contract and an intense wave of pleasure ripples from my core to my head and back down to my toes. I grab Kyle's shoulders so hard that I must've left indents. However, Kyle still hasn't climaxed so he continues to pump into me.

He slams his hips to mine and yells my name and even sucks on my nipples. But just as he is moments from finishing I hear a gasp and we both turn to the doorway.

"This doesn't count Zoe!" Madison yells and stomps her foot with her arms crossed with Queenie chortling and Nan muffling her giggles behind Madison, but Kyle just kisses my lips and thrusts into me until he erupts.


	4. Mr Promiscuous?

***Jimmy's hands are not conjoined in this story***

"We don't have much time left Opal! You have to talk to Jimmy before graduation!" My best friend Leena insists quietly while shaking my shoulders.

I chuckle but turn around to make sure he, or his friends, isn't around. Thankfully the hallway is empty but then I remember we have English class and we are now late. "Okay, okay I will! But let's finish the day first?" I say sarcastically and grab her hand so we can run to the room. We try to creek the door open as quiet as possible but of course Leena trips over someone's string bag on the way to her seat, which causes our old professor to turn from writing on the board and to us, but Leena somehow slips into a seat unnoticed by Mrs. Cosine and leaves me stuck in my tracks between one of the isles. "Care to explain why you are seven minutes and thirty-two seconds late Ms. Dumont?" she asks while tapping her foot on the ground.

Of course the entire classes turns to me in unison and stares while I choke on an answer. I look around the room and feel my hands turn clammy and face burn red from all the attention.

Just as I believe I'm going to faint, I hear a deep voice from behind me speak up. "She was at the nurse. I saw her go in." I inhale loudly and nod my head.

"Y-yeah. I must have dropped my pass in the hall...I-I could get another..." I murmur but she just shoos me to the only empty desk. Before I can turn around to smile at my savior, my instincts kick in and force me to the seat front and center.

A few minutes before the bell rings the class shuffles papers and binders into backpacks to get ready to leave. I turn around to check the clock but when I look back all I can notice is an attractive face grinning at me. I instantly smile back being that the attention is from my four-year crush, Jimmy Darling. Once the soothing sound of the bell rings through my ears I stand up and toss my bag over one shoulder and straighten my black skater skirt. As I walk towards the door I feel a light grip on my shoulder and I immediately jerk my arm in fear that I'm being bullied. When the redness drains from my cheeks I turn around and assume it's Leena but to my surprise Jimmy has his large hands on my shoulder. "Hey, you're welcome," he chuckles and scans my outfit.

I furrow my brows but then realize it was him that saved me when I walked in late. "Thanks..." I trail off while twirling the ends of my hair. I look up at him as he smirks and swooshes his hand through the air as if saying it wasn't a big deal. I giggle at his response but mostly because I'm nervous since the most popular, and good-looking, guy in our school is talking to me.

"Well, I better get going to statistics," he says as he stares at my legs and bites his lip, which I assume is from habit.

I nod and smile. "I'll see you later," I exclaim as an instinct since I say this to all my friends. Blood rushes to my cheeks as I immediately wish I hadn't said that, so I look to the floor and pretend to kick something around.

"Oh Opal, you better," he states, winks, and walks out of the empty classroom leaving me alone and in shock. When I exit Leena is leaning against the lockers using her phone but jumps up when I clear my throat. "Oh my gosh! What happened in there? I'm so sorry I didn't help you but if I'm late again I'll get detention and then get grounded and your birthday's coming up so really I'm just thinking of you. Plus, you got-"

I cut her off from her usual rambling and grab her arm so we can walk and talk. "It's fine Leena. But let's hurry up. I can't be late to astronomy. I'll tell you everything at lunch." She nods and speeds the pace.

When we arrive to the hall she enters the room across mine for advanced creative writing but wiggles her tongue at me before closing the door behind her. I chuckle and enter the room moments before the buzz of the bell.

When sixth period finally rolls around I stop at my locker to grab my lunch that consists of a peanut butter sandwich and a coke; I'm not the one to eat much or healthy, usually just terrible snacks. As I stroll down the long hall towards the cafeteria I spot Leena and our other friends but before I can reach them a squeaky voice calls out my name. I spin around and watch a junior boy run towards me. "Opal!" he pants as he finally reaches me. I stare at Dandy; the boy who is has had a crush on me since my sophomore year.

"Oh, hey," I say while staring at the papers he has in his hands.

"I wrote you this poem while in class." He then clears his throat to begin. "If my love were an ocean, there would be no more land. If my love were a desert, you would only see sand. If my love was a star- late at night, only light. And if my love-" I begin to drown his voice out with the thoughts of Jimmy's hand on my bare shoulder. I feel myself smile and become giddy but am pulled to reality but Dandy squealing. "You like it?" he asks loudly, which cause several classmates to stare and laugh.

Dandy isn't an average student; he's very open about his love of school and all things math. He also expresses his musical interest flamboyantly by playing the trombone that he insist on lugging everywhere with him on his back. I have never been interested in him, although he is cute, because he is too strange for my liking and I have my eye on Jimmy.

"Yeah. It's written well. But I gotta go Dandy. See ya." I turn on my heel and walk away before he can follow. Then, I slump into a cold seat at my usual lunch table that my friends are missing from, but I assume they are on the pizza and fries line, like most students. So, I open my brown bag and pull out the sandwich but hesitate to bite into it because I'm not hungry. While I poke at my food I feel a stare and assume it's one of the girls that sit at the table who doesn't like me so I roll my eyes and groan. "Take a picture. It lasts longer."

To my horror I hear a deep, male snicker and when I shoot my eyes up I am met with Jimmy's chocolate brown orbs. I allow myself to stare for a moment until I remember that I was extremely rude to him. "I'm s-sorry. I thought you were...someone else."

He smiles and grabs my shoulder again, which sends chills up my spine. "Don't worry about it babe. I just wanted to know if you want to hang out with me sometime?"

I suppress a laugh because I truly think he's joking, but then I notice his serious face and understand he is being honest. Jimmy Darling, my high school long crush, wants to see me outside of school! I must look like an idiot pondering and making faces but I quickly answer yes after I realize he's not messing with me.

"Great. Here," he says as he hands me his Iphone 6 plus, "type your number in." I push each button of my phone number and carefully make sure it's correct, and also try to steady my nervous hands. "Take a picture for the contact too," he says while grinning at me. I look up at him confused because most people don't require this. "I want to see your cute face whenever you call me, which will be often." He completes his sentence with a wink.

My mouth slightly opens from his obvious sexual reference but I casually brush it off in attempts to seem cool. "Well, I better grab some food. I'll see ya soon," he says with a half smile. I nod and mutter a quiet 'uh-huh' as he struts away, revealing his khaki pants that hug his perfectly round butt.

Just as he turns around and smiles widely at me, Leena and the girls walk to the table and stare at me. "What was that all about?" One of the girls, who always tries to compete with me, asks and then snorts.

Normally, I'm not one to boast but considering this girl has been on my back all year about how Jimmy talks to her in art I decide now is an appropriate time. "Oh he just asked for my number, Tiffany." Leena, and a few other girls, snicker at my response but Tiffany doesn't seem too pleased.

"Whatever Opal. It's probably a joke, so be careful sweetie," she fires back while almost gritting her teeth.

Before I can scream at the bitch, Leena steps in for me. "Oh Tiffany, shut the fuck up. You're obviously jealous that Jimmy is interested in Opal and not you, so why don't you screw off and fuck Billy like you have been all year?" I look over to my brave friend and chortle, which turns Tiffany's porcelain face a light shade of red. Without a comeback she picks up her salad and stomps off to nearby table and is followed by two others who glare at Leena and I.

Once the last bell chimes for the day I exit my psychology class and speed walk to the senior parking lot where Leena's car is. On my way out I plug in my headphones and blast Antivist by Bring Me The Horizon because it pumps me up and gives me more energy. As I walk towards the bright outdoors a huge smile spreads across my face when I realize it's Friday, so I walk a bit faster to Leena's black Nissan Altima that she received for her eighteenth birthday two months ago. She's so proud of it and insists on driving everywhere, even though I have a licenses and a car- though it isn't a nice one.

When we arrive at my house we follow our usual Friday routine: change into pajamas, order a pizza, and turn on Netflix. We've been doing this so long that neither of us think about it anymore.

After watching Perks of Being a Wall Flower and eating an entire pie of pizza, we rummage through my room for old memories to look at but the sound of my phone beeping three times distracts me. Finally, I can't ignore it anymore and I force myself to check my messages even though Leena and I have a strict no phone rule at our sleepovers.

I sneak off to the bathroom so I don't offend Leena, and when I enter my passcode I learn that each is from Jimmy I scream and flail my arms. I read the messages quietly aloud. "Hey Opal." he sent that ten minutes ago and I smile at the thought of him typing my name and actually thinking about me. Then two minutes after the first text he sent another, "It's Jimmy Darling smiley face!" I nearly scream loud enough for Leena to here but I don't care; I have to tell her! Five minutes after the second message he sent yet another that I say louder than I should have. "What's up beautiful?"

After I finish the sentence Leena barges in and furrows her brows. "What's going on Op?"

I stand up and take a deep breath. "Jimmy texted me!" I scream but I say it so fast that even Leena can't understand. She tilts her head until I shove my phone in her face and she reads it to herself.

Then she grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "Oh my God! This is your chance Opal!" We gush for a few more minutes but then plop on my bed to figure out the perfect response. "Just say Hey nothing you!" Leena suggests after we ponder for what seems like hours.

"No! That's so boring! How about hi just chilling?" I ask but immediately regret it because it sounds like I'm trying too hard. I shake my head before she can answer and put my finger near my lip. "I'll just say hanging with Leena smiley face. What about you?" Before she can stop me I type it and click send. When the swoosh sound rings through my ears, indicating that it sent, I lock my screen and chuck the phone across the bed. I scream into my pillow and wait an agonizing two minutes until I hear a bleep from the corner. I launch my body to retrieve the phone but Leena grabs it and uses her fingerprint, which I stupidly programmed, to unlock the device. She mumbles the message to herself when I hear another ring followed by a high-pitched yell from Leena.

Instead of explaining she just hands me the phone. I read the iMessage aloud to make sure it's real. "Home alone and bored. You should come over... Wink face!" Leena grabs me and squeezes my arm so hard I think it's going to fall off.

"You have to go Opal!" She yells and I thank God my parents aren't home this weekend.

"What? No! I can't ditch our sleepover!" I insist but truly want to go.

"Who cares? I can come back tomorrow!" She grips my hand and nods her head in encouragement. I take a deep breath and stand up to walk to my closet. "I texted him back saying what time?" I nod and wave her to my walk-in closet where I ponder what to wear. Leena picks out three outfits but runs to my bed when the phone makes noise. "He said a half an hour!"

I dig through the pile of clothes she threw on my bed and quickly decide so I have enough time to do my hair and make up. I pick the skirt I wore today but instead pair it with a long sleeve white and red striped crop top and put on with a daisy choker. Luckily, Leena is great with hair so she's already in the bathroom with the curling iron.

Twenty minutes later we're in my living room and Leena is starring at me as if I'm going to prom, which we decided not to attend. "You look hot!" she exclaims while wiping away invisible tears.

I look in the mirror one last time and admire the way she curled my long hair into loose waves and added a waterfall braid to one side. Then, I make sure my eyeliner and blush look perfect before heading out the door. "Wish me luck!" I yell as I slide into my mom's Lexus. She waves and backs out the drive but honks before she takes off. I take a deep breath and ask for his address, even though I already know where he lives.

Thankfully he responds immediately and I head off; five minutes later I arrive and sit in my car with shaky hands trying to gather myself. I open the door to exit but spritz myself one last time with body mist from Victoria's Secret. I knock on the red door and wait thirty seconds until he swings the door open.

The first thing I notice is that he's only wearing a wife beater and that is usual neat hair is somewhat messy with a piece falling over in the front. Even messy he manages to look gorgeous.

He stares me up and down and stops a bit longer at my midriff but gestures me inside right after. As I walk in before him I can almost feel his eyes burn into my butt, but I smile widely anyways.

Jimmy leads us up the stairs and to a closed door. "After you," he says in his spine-chilling deep voice. When I walk in I realize it's his bedroom and gawk at it. His king size bed looks tiny in his abnormally large room. There's a huge, empty wall the faces his bed but I see the Netflix logo on it and then spot the projector. Then I notice the beanbag chairs and television with a Playstaion. He plops on his bed with his legs open and slouching on the pillow behind him and pats the seat next to him as he says, "Come on Opal. I don't bite." I feel my back tense up but I drop my bag on the floor next to the door and slowly walk over to the mattress to sit on it. When I do he chuckles and pulls me in closer. "What would you like to watch babe?"

I look up at him with awe and a slightly opened mouth. I try to think of something to say but am star struck from his hand touching my waist. Finally I remember where I am and mutter, "Anything."

He smirks and raises his eyebrows. "Anything?" he questions with a slightly deviant tone, but I nod my head anyways. He grins and then plays a movie but I didn't catch the name because I've been too busy staring at his body to notice.

When the opening credits begin I see that we're watching the Human Centipede. "Gross!" I say as he looks at me.

"Hey this is fair game!" he protests.

"I guess I learned my lesson to never say 'anything' again." I mumble, realizing how dumb that sounds.

He chuckles and moves his hands higher up my abdomen, and I suppress a squirm as his finger dance on my exposed midsection. His touch sends chills up my back and creates a tingly sensation down below.

Twenty minutes into the movie I hid my face in his large arms but he cups my chin to face him. "You are beautiful," he whispers before planting his thick, soft lips on mine. After a few minutes of kissing he breaks away and stares at my face, which makes me feel self-conscious. "How come we've never hung out before?" he asks with a slight frown but also while caressing my cheek.

I open my mouth to answer but instead he cuts me off with his lips pressed to mine. When we connect again I feel a pang go from my mouth to my abdomen and smile into his lips from the pleasure. However, he wastes no time by snaking his fingers to my back and fumbles with my bra clasp. Before he undoes it he separates our lips and tugs my shirt off to toss it across the room, and then he returns to unhooking my bra. Normally, I would have stopped the quick actions but being so caught up in his embrace I don't even realize what I'm doing.

Eventually I feel a breeze run over my breasts and open my eyes to find my bra on the mattress. I instantly grab them to cover myself but Jimmy pulls away and lightly shoves my grip away. "Your body is perfect." I feel my cheeks burn but still smile. Then I expect his lips to return to my mouth but instead they latch onto my nipple.

I moan loudly at the sensation and throw my head back as his hand pinches the other. He switches between them and I look down to find yellow-green bruises all over my chest and smile. Then, I jump when his hand traces up my thigh with his mouth still attached to my breast. He looks up at me and slams his lips to mine as his hand inches closer and closer to my middle.

While he massages my breast with one hand and teases my middle with the other, I breathe heavily. I enjoy the feeling until I remember that he's a notorious man-whore and allegedly gets off by fingering girls. In fact, he's known for his extra long and thick hands.

Before I can ask him about it I feel his skin touch my wetness through my soaked panties. He rubs circles around my clit and groans into my mouth. Next, he removes his mouth from mine and smirks as I whimper from losing his touch. However, he makes up for it by slowly sliding my thong down my currently weak legs and then sliding one finger on my warmth. He then brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on it. "You taste so good Opal," he mutters and then rams two of his super fingers inside me. As soon as he does I spread my legs as wide as possible and throw my head back. I close my eyes at first and enjoy the intense pleasure I'm receiving by the thrusts of his hand but then I look at his face and see a grin spread across it.

After five minutes of pleasure he takes out his drenched hand and looks at it. Before I can even inhale, his tongue is gracing my middle and his fingers are back inside me. This time I can't hold myself back so I allow an orgasm to ripple through my body. As I feel my walls contract around his fingers I hear him murmur "Yes Opal cum for me!" between licks.

Once I relax I look down and see his head emerge from my skirt that is still on but pushed higher up my waist so that it doesn't cover my butt or core. Jimmy looks at my practically naked body and smiles. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever done that to," he confesses. But just I look at the wall from all the attention and know I'm blushing. "I swear I'm not just sayin' that either." I then turn to his face and smile widely. "You know, I'm a virgin," he admits.

I finally speak. "What? No way!" I say and instantly wish I didn't. "I'm s-sorry I didn't mean it like that. I just-"

He laughs and lies next to me. "It's alright Opal. You're a virgin too, right?"

I nod my head and look into his dark eyes. "Well," he says while grabbing his bulge, "How about we change that?"

I take a deep breath from his intense words and look at him. His lips are formed into an irresistible smile that exposes his deep dimples and white teeth. Then I admire his well-defined chest and finally scan to his tight pants. "Okay," I breathe out.

As soon as I utter the words he stands up and rips his tank top off and follows with his jeans. I watch as Jimmy rummages through the night stand and picks up a shiny silver square. Then he walks over and lifts me up to yank down my skirt, and when he does I chuckle because my breasts are in his face. Surprisingly we aren't too serious although we're about to lose our virginity to each other and we're not dating.

Next he lays me back down slowly and pulls down his boxers, which springs up his large middle. I watch in awe as he rolls the condom down his length and I actually feel my core become damper. Jimmy positions himself to enter me missionary style and just before he pushes in he looks into my eyes and murmurs, "I'm so glad my first time is with you." He then kisses my cheeks and thrusts into me. I moan loud enough to shatter the mirror but he continues to groan as the bedrocks from all the pumping and quick movement.

I can tell after a few second he's close to finishing, which means he wasn't lying about being a virgin, so I grab his face and kiss him roughly and even insert my tongue.

Two minutes later I feel his cock twitch inside me and know he's releasing. Once he finishes, he pulls out and tosses the condom in the garbage, but then lies next to me and pulls us under his blanket. I smile as our bare chests touch and I feel his hot breath on my cheeks.

As we cuddle he runs his hand up and down my back I smile and look up at him. He kisses my nose and calls me adorable. "Opal?" I look from the movie and into his eyes. "Will you be my girl?" I nod my head and grab his face so I can kiss his lips.

The next morning I wake up early and notify Jimmy that I have to go home. He offers to walk me out but I insist he stays in bed but calls me later. We kiss and then I get dressed and walk down his steep stairs. Thankfully, his family doesn't seem to be home so I have nothing to worry about- or so I thought. Just as I'm about to open the front door I hear a familiar voice call my name. When I turn around I'm met with the one person I was absolutely not expecting: Dandy.

"D-Dandy?" I mutter as I rub my eyes. Am I seeing things or are the events of last night messing with my head?

I stand in Jimmy's living room while possibly talking to the boy who's had a crush on me for two years, and my outfit is probably on backwards and hair a mess, which makes it obvious what happened last night.

"Opal? Wha-what are you doing here?" He asks with a high-pitched voice. Now my vision is clear and I can see dandy sitting on the couch with his trombone by his side, a bagel in his hand, and the television on the local news channel. His voice cracks with each word and his eyes are glassy. Although I don't like him, I feel awful breaking his heart since he's such a caring boy.

I stand in front of him and ponder what to say in order to not upset him, but I'm too shocked to come up with anything believable. "I wa- Jimmy and I were studying last night and I...I fell asleep here. What are you doing here?" I state and then mumble the question. I look up from the ground to be met with Dandy mere inches from my face and his tears pouring down his pale cheeks.

"What am I doing here? I'm Jimmy's brother!" He whisper-shouts and grits his teeth. I can see in his eyes he knows what really went on last night.

I blink rapidly and exhale loudly. "H-how you have different last names?"

He laughs at my apparently obvious ignorance and begins to explain. "My mother and father were splitting when I was born so she gave me her last name but alas they're back together now. Jimmy was the lucky one and had my father's last name." He pauses to study my deep red face and exposed body. "And love." He mutters under his breath." He returns to focusing his eyes on my skirt that is pulled higher than I normally would wear it; thus exposing my upper thighs. He bites his lip at the sight but still has his forehead crinkled and fists clenched. "I can't believe it was you that I heard screaming last night! God what a whore!"

That statement washes any feelings of sympathy away. How dare he call me such names when he barely knows me! I resist the urge, but almost give in, to punch Dandy in his smug face. "Yo- you don't know anything Dandy. What went on between us was private," I insist and try to keep my composure.

He chuckles and throws his head back. "Oh no, Opal, I think he was just touching your privates! God I can't believe you let him violate you like that! Do you know how many girls have been here in the past month?" He snarls and grits his teeth. I open my mouth to calm him but his rage blinds him. "Twelve! He's finger fucked twelve girls, make that thirteen now, in the past thirty days! God Opal how can you stoop that low? I thought you were a goddess! I would've treated you like a queen! I can do what he does! Just because my hands aren't abnormally large like his doesn't mean I can't pleasure you!" His veins are popping out from his forehead and arms, which are extremely muscular now that I look. I watch his hands contract and release as a smirk spreads across his seemingly attractive face. "Let me show you Opal! I can serve you like you deserve. I will appreciate every beautiful inch of your body and make you feel pleasure you never thought was possible!"

I look at the wall and try to think of a way to let him down easily since he's clearly a bit too attached to me. Although his offer does send pleasure through my body but frankly I'm not interested.

I don't know why he feels that way towards me because I've never shown attraction or even talked to him outside of school except the occasional time he's texted me. I take a deep breath and begin to formulate a response. "Dandy, it's not about the sex. I like Jimmy. I have since freshman year. I'm sorry I didn't realize how much you like me... I thought it was a small crush..." I trail off and feel tears pushing to leave the duct but then I hear Dandy chuckle and I instantly look up from my fidgeting hands.

"And let me guess, you think Jimmy likes you back?" He asks in a low voice while stepping closer to touch my cheek.

I immediately step back as far as I can but bump into the wall behind me. Now Dandy is so close that I can smell his mint breath burning on my forehead. "Y-yes. He-"

"Shut up!" He demands as he stomps his foot. "Just because I'm not a freak like Jimmy doesn't mean I don't deserve you! My hands may not be extra long and thick but my cock is!" He yells and now I feel scared because I'm trapped. How is Jimmy sleeping through this?

I try to relax Dandy so I can leave. "Dandy," I coo and rub his bicep, "I'm sorry for all this. I never meant to hurt you. It's just… you're too young for me. My parents wouldn't approve of the age difference." I push a smile to cover up my lie but Dandy doesn't buy it.

"No, don't deceit me! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" He shouts and pounds his fist to the wall each time he says you, and I just lean on the wall with his chest practically pushing on mine.

"Dandy...I have to go home now. I-" Before I can finish my sentence he grabs my upper arm and covers my mouth with his hand.

"You're not going anywhere," is all he mutters before banging my head into the wall.

When I crack my eyelids open the first thing I notice is darkness. The room I'm in has a small amount of light seeping from the thick black curtains, which illuminate the room enough so I can make out silhouettes and shades.

Next, I attempt to move but cannot due to tight restraints around my wrists and ankles, so I look down to find a way to escape but then I notice I'm half naked- only in my bra and panties. I begin to hyperventilate and scream for help because it seems like I was kidnapped but the last thing I remember was lying in bed with Jimmy. After five minutes of shouting I give up for now to save my voice, but I do begin to study my surroundings for when I leave- if I do.

A large, black object sits in the corner of the room and I can't understand what it is because it's not a shape but just lumps and random curves. Then, I spot a poster of Pablo Neruda, a famous poet. I furrow my eyebrows as I try to figure out whose room I'm in but before I realize who the owner is the door creeks, which draws my attention to the dark figure that is slowly creeping towards me.

When the person hovers over me I squirm and attempt to move as far as possible. The light shines towards us and I can see it's a man, particularly one I know, and then I recall everything that happened and become angry. "Dandy!" I yell but he hushes me with his hand.

"Opal," he whispers and inches closer so I can feel his hot breath on my face, "you're so gorgeous." As he speaks his runs his hands up my abdomen and I writhe under his nauseating touch.

"Please Dandy. Why are you doing this?" I ask while trying my hardest not to vomit.

"You've been asleep so long beautiful. It's Sunday, but I'm so glad you're awake now babe," he exclaims with a smile and high-pitched voice. "I wrote you a poem. Want to hear?" he asks with a serious expression. Before I can respond he rips a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and clears his throat.

"Hello

I know you hear me

Why do you ignore me?

I will always be here

In the depths of your mind

And I will never leave

Why do you deny me?

You know who I am

I am you

And you are me

So when I die

You'll come with me"

He finishes his terrifying poem with a smirk and then looks down at me with wide eyes, as if he's waiting for me to clap and burst into tears.

"You're sick!" I yell before I spit on him.

Dandy responds by grabbing my neck and squeezing as tight as he can for a few seconds and then letting go. After that he looks down at my shaking body and grabs my hand. "I'm so sorry Opal. I-I didn't mean to hurt you. I...I need to work on my anger," he says and then kisses my cheek.

Once he walks away to the corner I allow a few tears to fall from eyes and take deep breaths. I just have to convince him he can trust me, and then I'll make my escape. That's what the characters do on Criminal Minds anyways. "Opal? Are you alright now?"

I look up and nod with the widest smile I can manage. "Y-yes I am Dandy but I'd be better if I was untied," I say with desperation in my voice.

"Oh sure, but first I have to do a few things love."

I wrinkle my forehead and bite my lip. "Oh-oh okay."

Dandy smiles and strolls to the other side of the room and walks through a door that I assume is the closet. Not long after he struts out in sweats and a tight white t-shirt. I've never really noticed his muscular figure mainly because he doesn't dress well enough to show it off, but also because I've never cared to look.

As he walks towards me I feel my nervous habits take over and I begin to shake as well as chew on my lower lip. "Oh Opal, you know, you are so gorgeous. Your beautiful, long, caramel brown locks entice me as your light brown eyes make me melt. God you are my dream girl." I force a grin and mutter thank you.

Then, before I can even process what is happening, Dandy smacks his lips onto mine and once I understand the situation I try to kiss back, so he trusts me, but I can't seem to do so without crying. Dandy's lips are silk smooth and taste like coconut, which normally would be perfect but is revolting now. I always thought he was a virgin at all things sexual, including kissing, but now I second guess that because he is expertly maneuvering his tongue around mine and sending shots of pleasure, as well as anger, through my body. Still, my eyes are watering from the idea of Jimmy stumbling in and watching as I make out with his brother.

I suddenly pull back as I remember Jimmy, the man of _my_ dreams. He probably, and hopefully, texted me several times since I 'left' his house and now he must think I used him. "What's wrong baby?" Dandy asks while rubbing my arm. He is seriously delusional.

"I-I I'm not comfortable like this. I wan- I need to be taken out of the ropes. Please?" I say in my sweetest tone.

He looks into my eyes, as if he can read my soul, and nods his head. "Of course darling." With that he walks over to my arms and unknots them warily. Once I'm fully free I continue with my act to keep him off guard.

He returns to kissing and groping me, which is extremely easy for him since I'm only in my under garments. After five minutes of him sucking on my lip, I separate us and try to just talk. "H-how's your instrument?" I say and instantly feel stupid. That doesn't even make sense.

"It's great! My second favorite thing on this planet!" He says with a wink at me. I fake giggle and then think of a way to distract him but luckily he makes it easy for me. "You've never heard me play!" he says and claps his hands together. "I'll do my best song now! Just wait a minute for me to set her up," he whispers with a smile.

I nod my head and carefully watch as he struts to the corner where the oddly shaped box is. Once his back is facing me and his full concentration is on piecing together the trombone I quietly stand up and walk towards the door. As I'm mere feet from the exit I trip over a textbook and land on my face thus causing Dandy to jerk his head around to me. When I stand up to make a run for the doorknob but he lurches himself at me as fast as possible. However, I reach the metal handle with him several feet behind me but it's locked. I scream and pound on wood for my life but Dandy covers my mouth and drags me to the mattress.

"You bitch!" he growls while tying the rope around my irritated ankles and wrists. "I thought you loved me!" he grits and then smacks me across my cheek. "Don't you ever try to leave again!" he shouts at me. As I lie on my back all I can wonder if why has no one heard me? But then I realize from the position of the window that I'm in the basement and I know Jimmy's room in on the top floor.

"I don't want you! I want Jimmy! He asked me to be his girlfriend!" I say between breaths from sobbing.

Dandy stands up to tower over me from my feet and then he crawls on the bed up to my face. Once his legs are between my thighs he grabs my cheeks and kisses me with all his force.

This time I don't do anything back expect try to bite him but he over powers me and continues to suck on my lip and poke at my tongue. As if things couldn't get worse, he places his soft hand on my bra-covered breast and attempts to massage it but it just feels like too rough squeezes. "Stop!" I manage to yell through the kiss and my cries. He chuckles at my pathetic attempt.

Now, he breaks the kiss and leans over me staring at my chest. I watch as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls a shiny silver object out. I scream when he flips it to reveal a blade but he just places his hand over my mouth and laughs loudly. Then, he lifts my bra strap and cuts through it then repeating to the other. My only barrier between my breasts and him is now torn.

His mouth immediately attaches to my nipple and hand to my other breast. He bites the raised nub in his teeth, which causes me immense pain but he doesn't care. He does, however, gently pinch my other nipple and occasionally caress the breast.

I don't like this feeling at all but I can't help my instincts because I know I am wet. Dandy must realize because he chuckles and looks up at me from my chest. Then he places slobbery kisses down my belly to just above my panty line. As he reaches into his back pocket again I cringe. The switchblade makes another appearance by slitting my thong off.

He stares at my now stubbly middle for a while and then licks his plump lips. Immediately after he pries my thighs open and forces his head between them, but I continue to push them together until he bites my inner thigh. I wince at the tremendous pain and shut my eyes to try to ignore Dandy's movements.

Yet, as he sucks on my nub and pumps his fingers inside me I can't help but eventually orgasm. When I feel my walls contract I squeeze my eyelids shut and close my mouth tightly to prevent uncontrolled moans from escaping. Once it ends I feel ashamed and embarrassed that he stimulated me enough to finish, and I hope that Dandy didn't notice but of course he has. I squirm as his tongue licks me from bottom to top one last time and then he peers his head up to look at me. "You taste so good Opal. I'm glad you came for me baby." With his evil words I begin to cry, which eventually transitions into loud sobs.

"Hey shush shush," he coos as he grazes my cheek followed by his wet lips pressed to my forehead while I'm still bawling. He seems to be oblivious to my emotions or just crazy enough to be aroused by them. Suddenly his demeanor changes and his lips form a wide grin. "This won't hurt too much," he growls and then tugs down his pants and boxers in one swift movement of his hand. I focus on his face and begin to whimper and beg him to stop, but of course he ignores my pleas.

Dandy positions himself to enter me but leans down to kiss my lips first. Just as I feel his tip press against my tight, and sore, hole there's a loud bang on the door. Dandy jumps to his feet and slides his boxers before stuffing a cloth in my mouth. "Make any noise and I will kill you Opal." He walks to the door and I try to listen but everything is muffled.

Minutes later he returns and is his eyes are glassy and face is burnt red. He punches the wall above my head and makes a hole but doesn't pay it any mind. I watch as his mouth twitches and fist clenched again. "Why did you have to screw my brother? Why did you have to be a slut!" he shouts in my face. I just keep my eyes closed and ignore his words.

I hear him quiet down but still have my eyes shut because maybe I'll actually fall asleep. However, just as I'm about to drift into slumber I feel a slimy substance land all over my face and chest. When I open my tired eyes I am met with Dandy's rather large member hovering me and dripping from it is his own liquid. I look down to my chest and to my horror his semen is splattered all over me. "That's what whores get!" He grunts before pulling up his underwear.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of becoming upset I close my eyes one again and this time I do not allow any interruptions.

In the middle of the night I wake up and feel Dandy's warm body behind mine and his strong arms tightly wrapped around my torso. I allow a few years to escape but then swallow hard and try to dream again.

"Wake up Opal!" I jump from the loud noise in my ear and then squint at Dandy. "Today's the day my love! Once I return from school we can spend the rest of our lives together without anyone interfering." I watch quietly as he paces from the closet to his dresser until he finally grabs a tan trench coat from his large wardrobe.

I hear a click noise and then a chuckle. "They'll get what they deserve." He says under his breath, which worries me. Before he exits I stare at him and notice something under his coat. Eventually I put it all together and realize he's going to shoot up the school, and probably including his own brother!

I begin to wiggle and bounce with as much force as possible because in order to save the student body I must escape these rope restraints. After five long minutes one of my wrists becomes untied so I rip my arm away and then unknot myself.

I throw on Dandy's sweater and pajama pants before bolting out the door. When I make it to the living room I dial 911 and explain the situation as quickly as possible. Once I hang up I find my keys and drive to the school so fast, and as I arrive the police are pulling up but I run inside before they spot me.

I walk carefully through the halls and navigate away from the gunshots. As I'm speed walking to find Jimmy I trip over a dead body and scream when I see the face. It's Leena. I immediately cover my mouth so Dandy won't find me but still sob as I attempt to collect myself.

Suddenly I a large hand grab my shoulder and pull me backwards into a classroom. I yell through my palm that's been placed over my lips but when I turn to the person I'm faced with Jimmy. "What are you doing roaming the halls! Are you insane?" he whisper-shouts and holds my shoulders in front of him. He then looks at my outfit and dips his eyebrows.

"Jimmy, your brother held me captive this weekend! When I was leaving he stopped me and eventually knocked me out. He's had a crush on me for two years but I didn't know he was crazy! I didn't even know you two are related!" I say as I cry and hyperventilate.

Instead of speaking he pulls me into a tight hug and runs his nails lightly up my back. We stand in silence for minutes just soaking up each other's presence, and his cologne invades my nostrils but fills my body with warmth and happiness.

Finally the inevitable happens. "I'm so sorry Opal. I had no idea you knew my brother or that he even liked girls. I... I wish I could have stopped him," he whispers as we still hug.

I open my mouth to respond but a loud noise, followed by screams, goes off down the hall. "Get down!" I yell in a hushed tone and we both drop to the cold floor. I watch the door window and hold Jimmy's hand as the anticipation of life or death nearly kills us.

Jimmy sits in front of me but I still can watch the door and I finally see Dandy walk by. Jimmy turns around to kiss me but he bangs his head on the desk leg. I cover my mouth from screaming and hope Dandy didn't hear.

Everything seems okay until a minute later when Dandy bursts in and walks right to us. Jimmy stands up to reason with his brother and it seems to be working. That is, until Dandy spots me. Then he becomes enraged and points the gun to Jimmy's forehead.

Just as he's about to pull the trigger I shove Jimmy to the ground but still hear the loud bang. I also fall to the floor and look around as to why Dandy isn't moving. Then I turn to Jimmy who is crying next to me and holding my hand as he screams. I try to sit up but cannot and that's when I look down and realize I've been shot.

Suddenly I feel the pain and allow tears to pour from my ducts as Dandy cries from above me. "I didn't mean to Opal! I swear! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" He repeats the last line over and over but I block him out.

Jimmy kisses my forehead and lips so much that I actually think his mouth may become sore. As Jimmy tends to me I hear Dandy mutter something but I can't understand anything right now so I just lay on my back and stare at the fading ceiling.

A moment later I hear another shot and then Jimmy's arm stops moving. I instantly turn to him to check if he was shot but when I do look at him he's staring up with tears in his eyes and entire body shaking.

I peer to where he is glaring and see blood splatter everywhere and then my eyes trail down to Dandy's dead body and mangled head with a large hole. His brain matter surrounds the area and I finally muster up a scream.

Jimmy holds me tight and attempts to stop my bleeding but can't, so he carries me to the hallway. As he runs I hear faint shouts and then am plopped on a soft surface. When I look up two men in navy jackets greet me and I realize they're the paramedics. Jimmy runs beside me and speaks but I cannot understand him or anyone.

As I'm being pushed on the stretched Jimmy hops in the ambulance with us and I hear one of the men say to him, "She's lucky it was a shot to the upper arm. A few inches medially and it would've hit her heart."

Jimmy's hand clasps mine and sends pangs of relief to my throbbing arm.

With that I shut my eyes and allow myself to drift to sleep but am constantly disturbed with images of Dandy continually reading his poetry to me.

Even in death he is still persistent.


	5. The Not-So-Simple Thief

The red or black, Violet asks herself while in staring at her reflection in the dressing room mirror of a small boutique. "Why not both?" She mumbles and follows it with a maniacal chuckle. Little to the staff's knowledge, Violet does plan on taking the two skirts home but she isn't exactly leaving with a receipt.

After quietly yanking the tags off she stuffs the two articles in her large messenger bag, making sure to appear as innocent as possible. When she finally gathers up the courage to exit, she notices all the employees are missing so she takes the opportunity to snag the shirt she had been eyeing for weeks, which perfectly matches the two bottoms she has in her leather bag. _Imbeciles_ , Violet mutters while standing on the tip of her toes to reach the cute blouse. Once the cotton top is in her hands she quickly peers around the room to make sure no one is watching.

Finally, when she is sure the coast is clear, Violet rips the tag off and tucks the shirt in her purse. After stuffing the tag in her bra with the others, she makes her way to the exit, and just as she grips the metal bar attached to the door a large hand grasps her upper arm tight enough to restrict her from moving. Instantly she becomes nervous and sweaty because she's nearly positive she's caught, so she slowly turns around to face the person squeezing her.

To her dismay, she is faced with a staff member and one who doesn't look happy. In fact, as she studies his face she realizes not only does the man work here but also he is the manager! "Y-yes?" Violet manages to spit out without crying or breaking down.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's up to you," Tate, the manager, announces while keeping his hand tightly wrapped around Violet's throbbing bicep.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorts and yanks her arm from his grip.

"Fine, then I'll just call the cops. I'm sure they wouldn't mind taking you with them since you're constantly at the station," Tate snarls. He knows Violet from high school, and although they never talked he did observe that she was a troubled girl and most likely still is based off her recent actions.

"Okay, okay," she confesses while digging through her bag, "here." After she places the two skirts and single blouse in his hand she turns around to leave but he doesn't allow it.

"You aren't getting off the hook that easily. You're coming to my office," he commands while fixing his onyx eyes on her. Violet nods her head and downcasts her eyes, but it's all for show. Once Tate turns to walk toward the small room she bolts to the door and makes it out. Milli-seconds later Tate is sprinting after the thief and is only inches from her.

Finally, he grabs her bag, which causes her to halt and fall back slightly. Luckily, and unluckily, Tate catches her. True, she would've fell and possibly fractured a bone, but she also could have made it home without being caught. While twisting her hands behind her back, Tate mutters, "You don't remember? I ran track in high school."

As he walks her back to the shop she suddenly remembers the dark eyed boy from the halls. He would always be lurking around the corner, as if he were watching her. And Tate will admit during junior year he had a bit of a crush on her, but then during their final year of high school Violet changed. She wasn't the innocent girl he thought he knew- no, she changed into a total badass, and Tate wasn't too sure how much he liked that quality.

Some say it was because her father screwed a girl only two years older than her, while others insist she only broke out of her shell. Tate, however, thinks that it's a front. Some guy must have really fucked with her feelings over the summer because come that fall she busted through the doors without so much as a glimmer of concern for others.

Upon arriving into the small but cozy office, Tate practically throws Violet onto the small couch. "If you try to move I will call the police. I'm not screwing around Violet."

She knew by the tone of his voice that he wasn't bluffing. From what she remembered Tate was hardly ever serious, but when he was he scared everyone- including the fearless Violet. In fact, she recalls one particular scene during lunch of her senior year. Some cokehead began making fun of Tate for eating alone. In short, Tate's fist became very comfortable on the asshole's face.

"I'm sorry," Violet began and let a few tears out. In truth she wasn't sorry she stole but only sorry she was caught.

"Whatever," he murmurs while typing on his computer.

"Wha-what are you gonna do?" Violet asks with a shaky voice. Ignoring her, he continues to stare at the screen of his laptop. The normal store policy is to call the police if the shoplifter is not a minor, and Violet, being twenty years old, is clearly not one. However, Tate is sympathetic towards her. After all, her mother did die a week before graduation and father committed suicide a few days after her mother's death. But then again she did break the law and deserves to be punished- right? "Please don't call the cops. I promise I'll give you the money and I'll never step foot in here again. I'll do anything. I can't go back to jail- no one will bail me out."

Again, letting her words go through one ear and coming out the other, Tate stares at the lit up screen but this time he lowers his head to conceal a growing smirk. Violet is at his mercy- something he, nor her, would ever think is possible. He could force her to blow him right here, as punishment, but that would not only tarnish his reputable status but also give her the feeling that she can steal again. Plus, he isn't exactly interested in sexual acts from Violet at the moment. He's more intrigued by her personality and would rather find out about how she's been doing. "I'm not going to get the authorities involved. However, I do need to do something. For start, you're never allowed in here again-"

She cut him off, eager to be set free, "I won't. I promise-"

In return, Tate interrupts her as well; "You must pay a fine to the owners of the total of these clothes. And..." he begins but trails off. The last condition seems desperate but he isn't the one possibly about to go to jail. "Go on a date with me."

Violet looks up from her hands that she was fumbling with and straight into his piercing, dark irises. Something about Tate had always enticed her; perhaps it's his curls that obscure his eyes like a sheepdog or the sunken orbs that have the power to see into anyone's soul and not take a second glance. Part of Violet insists it's his smile that showcases his deep dimples and strawberry colored lips. "O-okay," she answers instantly. Anything is worth not going to jail.

"My shift is over in thirty minutes. Wait here and we will go once I clock out."

When Tate exits the room, locking the door, Violet allows herself to relax a bit, but when she realizes that she's going on a date with a, suddenly, very attractive man she becomes nervous once again. Now more than ever, she wishes that she could wear the outfit she nearly stole since her oversized cardigan and ripped denim shorts don't seem like the most fitting outfit for the evening. Unfortunately she has no choice, so instead of dwelling on the unsightly clothing she grabs her make up bag to begin working on her face.

Meanwhile Tate is manning the front and thinking of where to take Violet. He knows she doesn't deserve a date but this may his only chance at a girlfriend and since Violet is beautiful, no doubt, he decides to give it a chance. After all, Tate is never the one to go about things the normal way.

A quick knock at the door startles Violet and forces her to jump up from her seat slightly. "Here," Tate mutters as he tosses a dress to her.

Violet immediately stands up to study the clothing. Short, but not too short, and the sleeves are long, just like she likes while the neckline is high, but the back has a 'V' opening and the end of the dress stops mid-thigh. After thanking him quietly, she trots to the door waiting for his permission to change. While in the dressing room she admires the outfit. The skirt of the dress flares out, like a poofy flare and thus giving her curves more accentuation. She slips her white vans back on and wishes she wore prettier shoes but is surprised to notice that the maroon color of the dress matches well with her slightly dirty sneakers.

Once the outfit is secured correctly she stuffs her clothing in the bag and slowly walks out. Tate's face gives her enough assurance that she indeed looks good. Clearing his throat, Tate tries to find the words to begin but instead just gestures her toward the door. Violet watches as he nervously jiggles the key, locking the store up, and smiles. She knows that she is the cause of this, especially in her new dress. "Where are we going?" she asks as he leads her to his black Toyota that appears to be quite old.

"I'm thinking Cheesecake Factory? I'm really craving dessert." As the words leave his mouth Violet feels a warm sensation run down to her core. Although he meant it innocently Violet knows deep down he would love to be face deep in her pūssy, and she also is craving some action.

The car ride is mostly silent, with the few exceptions of Tate's phone buzzing and Violet humming to the songs on the radio. Upon arriving at the restaurant Tate put on his most gentlemen persona, starting with opening the car door for Violet and even pulling out her chair.

During dinner Tate constantly stares at Violet but he doesn't get much in return because she's too invested in the delicious meal. Ever since her loser boyfriend dumped her, she had been living in hotels, so needless to say food has been scarce. So she's been trying to attract a rich guy to support her until she can get back on her feet, but wealthy men don't go for raggedy girls like Violet, hence why she shoplifts nice clothing.

"So Violet, what have you been up to since high school?" Tate asks between bites of his pasta.

Instead of spewing the searching-for-my-calling bullshit, she takes a deep breath and actually thinks. "What have I done that's memorable since graduation?" she mumbles to herself. After several minutes she begins to speak. "I've been fucking up my life. Drinking, smoking, cutting, stealing. You name it, I've probably done it. My life has been on a down spiral to hell but I think I'm ready to turn it around." Violet uses all her will power to hold back the stinging tears that are desperately begging to be released.

"Violet," Tate begins and notices her mood change. Why did he have to ask that question? Now she'll surely not want to see him after he pays the bill. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You've been through so much, it's amazing to see you're still trying- still alive. You haven't exactly had any help with your situation- from what I've heard."

Instantly, Violet looks up at Tate with her brows furrowed and forehead scrunched. How does he know so much about her but they haven't had an actual conversation since March of their senior year- more than two years ago? "H-how do you..."

"In a small town like this? Everything goes around Violet, including the details of your parent's untimely death." Tate feels bold tonight and hopes he isn't testing Violet too much because he'd hate to see her lose her cool.

After his words settle in and bring back memories of the awful day she found out about her father's death, she becomes enraged. "If everyone knew then why the hell didn't I get so much as a simple hug? Why the fuck didn't anyone check on me? Why didn't anyone give me affection? I nearly ended my life and no one bothered to send me a damn card!"

"Violet," he began in a soft tone. Not sure of how she'll react, he warily places his warm hand over her small and shaky one. He jolts for a second at the sensation of her freezing limb but quickly recovers and attempts to soothe her. "Let's go some where private."

Surprisingly Violet obliges and does so quietly. Before paying the check, Tate orders a cheesecake to go for the two to, hopefully, share later.

One the way to Tate's small studio apartment he thinks of what he could do- really anything. But being the polite and morally conscious guy he is, he decides that he's not going to force her into anything, no matter how badly he wants to get laid.

Upon pulling into the dark parking lot of his dank apartment complex Violet's nerves begin to run wild. She has no reason to be anxious since she knows he's far too innocent to make a move or try to hurt her. However, her stomach is still in knots despite her insisting thoughts. "Why are we here?" she finally manages to croak out. Her husky, low-pitched voice informs Tate just how tired she is- and not just physically. It's apparent by the bags under her eyes, the lack of enthusiasm, and quiet manner that Violet hasn't felt true rest and happiness in a while, and something deep inside compels him to help her since he knows what it's like to be completely abandoned by the ones who are supposed to be there for him always.

"Violet," Tate manages to let out. "I know your life hasn't been easy since high school, and I think it's because you didn't have anyone- someone to guide you, someone to lean on. I-"

Scoffing, Violet interrupts him before he can spew more of his senseless pity talk, "What? Are you going to suddenly help me? I haven't seen you in over two years. Listen, thanks for dinner and letting me off easy, but I'm not interested in your _guidance._ " The punch of her words sting deep in Tate's chest. All the qualities, good and bad, of Violet are coming back to his memory. He surely did miss her snarky remarks and unafraid mouth.

"If you'd just let me-"

"No," Violet demands. She cannot stand when anyone pities her. She would rather go hungry than have others feel sorry for her. In fact, she now wishes she just let him call the police since he probably believes she owes him something. "I want to go home and if you don't take me I'll-"

Her empty threat is cut short by the forced plant of Tate's rough lips on hers. Caught off guard she instantly gasps for air when their mouths connect, but moments later she reciprocates his every move and begins to appreciate the sweet taste of his cherry Chapstick that she watched him apply vigorously the entire ride home.

On the other hand Tate is reveling in Violet's minty taste between her tingling lip balm and refreshing Ice Breaker he watched her crunch on from the corner of his eye after their meal. While sucking on her bottom lip he snakes his lingering hand up her back to twirl her silken honey-tinted hair. The strands feel like satin, nearly slipping from his large grip, but before he can continue Violet harshly pulls away, ripping the hair from his fingers.

Clearing her throat she begins her rage-filled babble. "If you think I'm going to fuck you as a thank you for not giving me to the police you got another thing coming. I'm not some whore who-"

"Violet," Tate quietly interrupts her in hopes she'll calm down and listen to him.

But as expected, she doesn't bother to give him the chance to explain or even take a breath. "No Tate! I'm not going to sit here and allow you to use me! I know what guys will do for sex and you're no different. I know your tactic- tell me why I'm sad and then try to comfort me. Well Tate, if you hadn't realized in high school, I'm not an ordinary girl who can be fooled so easily. Now, take me home or I will walk." By the end of her shouting her chest is moving up and down rapidly from making herself so upset and on edge.

Watching Violet, Tate gives her a minutes to relax and let what she said sink in. _Of course I know you're not an ordinary girl Violet_ , he thinks to himself and nearly screams aloud. "I'll take you home after you hear me out. I don't want to be your guider. You've got it all wrong. I need guidance myself. I mean, look at me, I'm still in county college with not a clue as to what I want to do. My mother kicked me out the moment I received my diploma and I can barely afford this piece of shit apartment. I'm in no position to guide you anywhere Violet. What I want is your company. We would help one another out without even knowing. Your smile has made me entire week and I've only seen it for a second when you looked over the dessert menu. God, Violet, don't you get it? You're fucking beautiful and I want you so badly in every way possible- not just physically." Tate stops to catch his breath but doesn't get much because Violet places her pink, rose petal-like lips onto his and steals the air from his lungs.

Carefully sucking his top lip into her mouth, Violet nips and even pokes her small, warm tongue at his teeth. Quickly, Tate lets her in and savors the excitement he receives from the tip of her tongue.

Meanwhile, Tate places his hand back in the slight waves that fall from her delicate head and end inches after her shoulders. The scent of watermelon conditioner fills Tate's nostrils, intoxicating him further.

However, Violet is still in full control of her desires and is enjoying how she has Tate wrapped around her finger at the moment, so she slithers her tiny hand down his shoulders, past his collarbone, and to his chest. Feeling Tate's toned torso she moans into his mouth while rubbing circles on his breast muscles and knows he is hard. But she wants to be sure so she slowly wanders her hands down his abdomen and to the band of his jeans, which causes him to gasp loudly. The sudden reaction not only turns Violet on but also motivates her to continue but better.

As she rubs into his bulge Tate feels every nerve in his body react and light on fire. The mere sensation of her fingers through his thick jeans in enough to make him explode but he holds back in hopes that in a short while he'll be inside Violet.

But since Tate is extremely impatient he pulls away from Violet and mumbles, "Let's go up."

With that the two bolt out of his car and collide again once the elevator doors close. Thirty seconds later the ding of the bell informs them they've reached Tate's floor and they only peek their eyelids open but not separate their lips. The two refuse to remove the physical connection until Tate is forced to dig for his keys and jam it through the keyhole while Violet sucks and bites on his pale neck.

When they finally enter the tiny apartment Tate throws Violet onto the nearest flat surface, unable to resist any longer. As she lies on the ratty couch Violet looks up at a lust-filled Tate as he kicks his and her shoes off.

Immediately after the sound of shoes hitting the ground Tate attaches his lips to Violet's neck and hands to her breasts. Leaving several love bites on her soft neck, Tate chuckles as she whimpers when he removes his mouth. However, her pleasure returns moments later when he peels the sleeves of her dress off and shimmies it to her torso to allows her black bra a chance to shine.

When Tate places his cold hand on the swell of her breast Violet moans loudly, not caring who hears. The sensation of his skin on hers is almost too much to handle. Yet, Tate continues to gently massage her chest until he lifts her delicate body up by her back to remove the bra restricting him.

Once the nuisance is on the ground Tate allows himself to gawk at her bare mounds and feels his erection grow. The rosy buds in the center of her beautiful breasts beg for his touch, for his tongue. Of course, unable to resist the masterpiece in front of him, he slowly inches his head to her nipple and licks his lips. When he pops the erect nub into his warm mouth Violet lets out a whimper- something tells Tate no one has paid this much attention to her, but that's all about to change. He would spend one hundred years on each breast if he had the time.

However, being that his pants are growing ever tight in his crotch, he speeds up only enough to still give her immense pleasure.

Alternating between his mouth and fingers, he gives each of her rosy peaks the care it deserves until her grip on his soft curls force him to move lower. The remainders of his wet kisses glisten in the dim light as Tate continues to snake lower, dangerously close to her core.

Once her dress is finally removed he hovers above her middle, taking in the sight of her soaking pink cotton underwear. The mere scent of her juices drives him mad but the thought of being inside her brings him back to sanity.

Hooking his fingers around the elastic band he yanks her panties off, leaving a cool breeze feeling over Violet's soaking pūssy. Once he slides a finger up her slit a muffled moan escapes from Violets throat- the first of many. Tate drags his finger agonizingly slow around her clitorïs in attempts to prolong the situation.

However, Violet begs him to speed up and with the combination of desperation in her voice and her shiny lips in front of him he gives in. Immediately he sucks the southern rosy peak onto his mouth, poking it with his tongue. All aggression and anger built inside him is released on her clit, and Violet is loving it.

Her small hands grab onto his tresses and softly pull with every flick of his magic tongue. Truthfully, Violet's never received oral, though she's given it plenty of times. Guys she went out with didn't find it necessary to please a woman. Luckily, Tate is the complete opposite. In fact, he gets off by getting her off first.

"Tate," Violet manages to let out as a breathy moan. Seconds earlier he plunged two thick fingers into her aching hole and pumped as fast as he can. With every movement of his hand and mouth Violet feels herself crawling closer to ōrgasm- the first not caused by her own hands in a while.

Quickly removing his mouth from her throbbing nub and replaces it with his thumb. As he rubs circles he mutters, " Cūm for me, Violet. Release!"

Following his commands she feels a coil tighten in the pit of her stomach and tiny waves ripple through her. Moments later an intense, spine-shattering sensation runs from her core, down to her toes, up to her head, and back to her soaking middle. She lets out several moans and cries for Tate as he continues to plow his fingers into her.

Once he feels her walls cease contracting he pulls them out and moves his face to it again. Violet shudders when he licks her clean, leaving no area untouched.

When he finally sits up, Violet gets on her kneepads and fumbles with his belt buckle. However Tate gently takes her hand and pushes it away. "Not today Violet. Today is about you. So are you ready for round two?"

The sound of his voice alone is enough to cause her aching pūssy to soak again to the point that even the couch would become damp.

With the rapid nod of her head Tate rips his belt off, followed by his pants and boxers. Next Violet pulls his t-shirt over his head and runs her cold hands over his chest. Although not necessarily muscular, his extremities are nicely defined, making it obvious that he does work out somewhat often.

With every curve of his body Violet allows herself to get lost into his deep, ebony eyes. The way his dark lashes nearly kiss his cheeks when he looks down is enough to make her wild with his apparent innocence.

And in return Tate gazes into Violet's whiskey colored eyes in awe at how beautiful she really is, and condemning himself for never realizing. The way her pink lips lift upward into a smirk has him on edge, but it's her golden tresses that complete her look- the image of each strand scattered around her, almost like rays of sunshine from behind.

Unable to withstand any more tension, Tate lays Violet down once again and crawls on top of her. In this moment the two lock eyes and hands, silently promising not to let go.

With the muted vow, Tate slams into her tight, wet core and gasps. From the few girls he's been with none felt as good as Violet, and certainly none had the same affect on him either.

Meanwhile, the sensation of being filled is almost too much for her to handle. With every pump, Tate hits her g-spot, something she's never felt before but glad she finally has. Tate is like a master and Violet his puppet, knowing every inch of her body and what exactly it is craving.

As she nears the edge once again, Tate notices her nails digging harder into his shoulders. "Tate...f-faster...I'm going to..." Just as she finishes her sentence a familiar feeling rolls throughout her entire body. Her toes curl and back arches. But it's the mixture of her moans and clenching walls around his veiny, rock-hard cōck that finally give Tate the last push to explode deep inside her.

"Fuck Violet," he stutters as his entire body twitches.

Once he catches his breath that rudely left his lungs the moment he laid eyes on Violet earlier that day, he rolls off her but still connected via hands.

"That was..." Tate begins but trails off, unable to find the right words to describe it.

Ignoring his question, and finished with her high from Tate's touch, she asks, "What are we?"

Shocked by her bluntness, Tate hesitates and searches for a way to explain. "What do you want us to be?" He eventual retorts. He definitely wants to be with her in every way possible and every day, but that could be too intense for her to hear so he plays it off cool.

"Together," is all she answers in a monotone. Violet isn't unfamiliar with let downs and heartbreaks so if he doesn't agree with her wants then she'll have no problem leaving right now and faking that she doesn't care.

To her surprise Tate stands up before her and pulls her to her feet and plays music from his phone. As the soft piano of Bon Iver plays he sways with her while still naked. With her head nuzzled into his neck she whispers, "Thank you."

Tate wants to ask for what but he knows what she means. Her explanation is in her moves and eyes- the way her orbs glimmer in the florescent light and gaze at his smile. He knows he's finally found someone he can trust, someone who won't abandon him. "Anything for you, Violet," he murmurs in her ear so she can feel his hot breath on her neck, giving her goose bumps.

With that the two dance the night away, never leaving the grip of one another's hands, and know that their future together is bright, like a supernova. Only, they won't burn out or fade away.


	6. Break In

"Come on, just come out with us!" my best friend Maggie begs while I sulk into the couch further.

"It's okay Mags. I don't want to ruin your date with Matt." She's a wonderful person and caring friend, but I'm just not ready.

She sighs, "You won't! I'm sick of you mopping here over that douche! Tai, it's been a month! He's moved on and so should you! Matt has a friend he wants you to me."

"Maggie, I really am not in the mood. Another time, I promise," I assure her and then pout my lips. Truthfully, I know she doesn't think I'll ever get over my ex, but I need time. After all, three years is a lot to forget.

"Ugh, fine, Taissa. I won't be home until tomorrow- sleeping over Matt's," she announces with a wink, "So I will see you in the afternoon." As she shut the door she calls one last goodbye and gives me a wave.

"Bye." I mutter and then turn on music while cleaning- alone at last. While 'I'm Not Okay' by My Chemical Romance is blaring through my speakers I prepare a sandwich and then change into my ex's t-shirt and over the knee socks.

After plopping onto the couch I search through Netflix for a movie. Before I know it, I jolt up from my slumber and rub my eyes while trying to decipher the time on the cable box. "One twenty-two," I murmur while sitting up I jump up at 1:00am from a noise outside and gasp from being startled. I figure it's just a raccoon, like last time, so I begin watching Friends to soothe myself back to sleep.

However, ten minutes later I hear muffled noises in the kitchen and start to panic. Normally I'm not so paranoid but since I am alone i this apartment and I've been watching several horror films, I'm on edge right now. But since no one would be able to come inside without me noticing I begin to relax. Yet, I can't get the noise out of my head so I warily walk to the kitchen, the source of the sound, and hold the remote I grabbed as a weapon. "H-hello? Is anyone there?"

Stupid- right? No murder is going to shout, "Oh you caught me. Okay, I'll leave now." I suppose it's true- when in the terrifying situation we all act like idiots. So, as I slowly turn around the corner I feel my heart beat speed and wonder why I didn't go out with Maggie. However, the pounce of out cat rips me from my thoughts of dying and also casts relief over me. "Misty! Gosh, you scared the shit of out me!" Silently poking fun at myself I grab a water bottle and turn around in hopes of falling back asleep, but a hand wrapping around my mouth and a cold, metal object placed to my throat stop me.

"Make a sound and you die. Understand?" The voice of the possible murder is deep and husky, almost like a smoker except I can tell he isn't one. In fact, it sounds like he was crying. However, I don't want to get hurt or die, so I slowly nod my head yes and keep my thoughts to myself as the mystery man removes the blade from my pale neck. "Now listen up, I want all the cash, jewelry, and anything expensive you have. If you even think about contacting the cops I will kill you." Again, I study his voice and the way he speaks each words. It's almost as if part of him wants to stop but most of him forces to go on- and not just with this crime.

With him still behind me and his hand covering my mouth I let out a muffled noise, signaling I understand, which earns a chuckle from him and his grip to release me. Before I can walk to my room he spins me to face him. Only able to make out small features of his face, due to a ski mask loosely pulled over his head, I notice his deep, coal-black eyes, which seem to have no differentiation from his pupils. "Not so fast," he says in a smooth, deep voice with his grip tightening around my bruising bicep. "I'm going wherever you go, pretty." He finishes his statement with a long glance from my head to toes, taking in my legs extra slow.

After a loud gulp I shut my eyes in hopes of turning him off, since I'm clearly not interested. For all I know he could be sexy but I can only make out his silhouette in this lighting, so I don't know how he even finds me attractive- but still I nearly gag. However, feeling his eyes burn into my body, I slowly flutter them open and decide to take peeks at him. The first thing I notice is he's wearing all black, which would normally be a plus for me but since he's here to rob me it isn't quite the same. Next, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and am hit with the strong scent of woods and spice- like saffron or some sort-, and it is intoxicating.

With his hand clenched around my wrist, I drag him to my room to get my wallet and jewelry in order to hurry him before something I regret happens. As I bend over to rummage through my purse he yanks me up and demands, "No. Bring it here. I'll get everything." Scoffing at his utter rudeness and wandering hands, I toss the bag at him.

While he looks through my belongings, he finally removes his grip from my arm, giving me a chance to run. Before I make a decision, I study his mask-covered face and notice he's not paying attention to me, so when he grabs my wallet I make a run for it.

Bolting through the house I hear his loud stomps nearing me but I'm almost at the front door. Unfortunately just as my hand skims the doorknob, the familiar sensation of his skin touching mine pulls me back into reality. Thus forcing my mind to wonder what he'll do to me now that I disobeyed him. "What did I tell you, bitch! From now until I'm done you stay tied up," he shouts while clenching as tight as he can on my throbbing upper arm. The bruises are now visible but he doesn't seem to care since he's in a trance of rage and lust- lust over money and possessions that is.

With my growing thought tears begin to poke at the ducts in my eye and beg to be released and since I'm feeling extremely vulnerable lately, I let them. But the bastard doesn't even budge- no, he only chuckles.

Moments later he tosses me to the couch. "Where's your phone?" he demands. Wiping away the tears that are staining my cheeks, I point to a table where it lies, charging. Apparently he doesn't like my response because he jerks my arm and forces me to face him. "Speak to me!" he screams with such force that I'm shocked none of my neighbors have awoken. The sight of his veins popping in his arms under his skintight shirt scares me but also turn me on in a strange way.

Great, I'm into sadism.

"O-over there." I stutter through my gasps of air.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you cooperate!" He shouts and then grabs my cell phone only to pocket it seconds later. Next, he roughly shoves me onto the couch and ties my hand with duct tape. "Now, I have your cash and jewelry. Anything else in that room?" Immediately, I vigorously shake my head no in fears that if I take to long he'll hurt me. "Tell me where everything else is," he demands while twirling the chain of one of my necklaces he stole. While staring at the jewelry my ex gave me, I gulp and explain the hiding spots, and half hope he breaks the damn thing.

Twenty minutes later he struts back into the room with a two garbage bags, each one full of Maggie's and my belongings. When he places the sacks on the ground he plops on the couch and scoots closer to me only to whisper, "Sorry to do this to ya babe but I gotta make a living."

Still terrified, I nod and keep quiet- hoping he'll leave now that he has all he needs. However, when he stands up and heads the opposite direction of the exit I become aware he doesn't plan on leaving quite yet. The noise of rummaging through cabinets gives me the understanding that he is in my kitchen- probably making food. The audacity of this burglar is unreal. How could he make food while I'm tied to this furniture, terrified and unsure if I'll make it to the morning untouched? Taking his sweet time preparing some sort of extravagant meal, I decide my time should be spent attempting to escape. As I wiggle and squirm out of the ropes grip I soon realize I've only made it worse since now the hold is tighter and my body is twisted in an uncomfortable state, which can not be undone.

Finally, he casually strolls back into my view and falls back onto the couch with a sandwich in hand. With a smug look on his face he mutters with a mouth full of food, "Want some?"

Instantly repulsed by his attitude and lack of concern, I furrow my brows and shake my head. However, my disgusted response clearly doesn't hinder him since he grabs my face the second I turn the opposite direction. "I know I'm sexy but damn girl you could calm down a bit." I give a confused look but then look to his face and notice he is eyeing my legs that are spread and uncovered by my t-shirt that in inconveniently lifted up to my navel.

Mortified I attempt to fix my outfit but the restrictions around my wrists won't allow it. The grin spread wide across is proof that he is thinking about my body in an unholy way. "Don't worry about it, doll. I like the view and also that peep show I got earlier," I raise my eyebrows at his vague statement, "of your ass," he clarifies and then smirks at my reaction. As he scarfs the ham sandwich down his throat I remember when I bent down to retrieve my purse early and realize I had no pants on at the time.

However, the sensation of his cold hand brushing thigh rips me from the horrifying image. "Wh-what are you doing?" I ask in a shaky voice.

"Relax babycakes, I'm just getting comfortable. I might as well stay for the night, eh?" He smirks as he points the remote, which was placed next to me, to the television and flips through the channels. Once he finds something to watch he removes not only his mask but shirt as well. Instantly I feel blood rush to my cheeks, giving it a scarlet tint. Once again tearing me from my thoughts, the thief speaks, only this time it isn't so assuring." I would untie you but I'm pretty sure you'll just run."

Instead of giving him a reaction, which he so desperately desires, I jerk my head the direction to concentrate on the wall and hopefully fall asleep. While trying to drift into a deep slumber, the hands of the intruder rudely awaken me by shaking my body. "Don't fall asleep on me yet-I didn't get your name." With every punch of his words I feel his eager hand snake further up my thigh.

I unintentionally scoff, which earns an intimidating look and a tighter grip on my thigh. "Taissa" I mumble between quivers. The mere sensation of skin-to-skin contact electrifies my entire body, as if I'm sitting deep in a fire. Something about this man is alluring, almost interesting, but remembering his criminal ways I snap out of my momentary haze just in time for his response.

"I like it," he says while cupping my face, "so foreign." His hot breath hovers my cheek and sends a chill down my spine.

Suddenly a burst of confidence rushes through my veins and forces me to speak up. "What is the fuck is wrong with you? First you rob me, then you want to stay the night, and now you're trying to flirt with me?" I scoff to give my statement more flare and then continue, "Can't you spare me the pleasure of your company? You… self-absorbed, psychotic-prick." Once the high of my rage wears off I realize what I've done and nearly go into shock. This man has the power to hurt me and, ultimately, kill me.

Luckily, he starts chuckling and grinning, taking my words as some sort of joke. Although I should be relieved that he isn't going to hurt me, I'm not- in fact, I'm upset that he isn't the slightest bit intimidated by me. "Taissa I love this feisty thing you've got going on." His mock infuriates me more but what stops me from screaming is his hand running higher up my leg.

For some reason, I can't move, let alone speak, when he touches me. The feeling is indescribable and I want more. However, with what little will power I have left I try to jerk away, in attempts to not seem so desperate and pathetic. But once his fingers are mere millimeters from my soaking core I give in. I haven't felt this good since before I found out Daniel cheated on me. So, with the assumption that he'll continue his actions, I close my eyes to enjoy the pleasure but just as he brushes a finger over my cotton panties, he jerks it away, which earns a sharp, inhale from me. "Something wrong, sweet cheeks?"

Angered by his teasing I growl, "Can you untie me?"

He looks at me, all of me, for a while but then reaches into his back pocket, which I soon find out is a knife. Keeping my composure, I stare at his every move and pray he isn't going to hurt me. Fortunately he slashes the sticky tape and tosses it across the room, but before I can make a run for it he scoops me into his arms and begins to walk towards the back of the apartment.

"What are you doing?" I ask in a shaky tone. "Put me down!" I demand and flail my arms. However, he ignores my whines and instead tosses me onto Maggie's bed and immediately crawls on top of me.

"Shut up," He commands with his knee between my thighs, prying them open. With his forehead pressed his forehead to mine he chuckles, and then ghosts over my lips that release my harsh pants.

"Get-" I begin but am soon interrupted by his red, plump lips crashing onto mine. As he sucks and lightly bites on my bottom lip, I lie silently on the mattress in attempts to rest, but he becomes angry and his actions show it. Between roughly fucking my mouth with his warm tongue and groping my breast, I decide to give into the pleasure.

As I suck his top lip into my mouth he moves his knee from the middle of my legs but shoves his hand in its place. When I feel him rub my soaking pussy I know what's going to happen next. However, the sudden yank of my underwear sends me into ecstasy, as I've never been cared for in such a way.

The burglar gasps once he runs one finger up my slit, revealing how wet I really am. As he continues to stroke my clitoris I deep the kiss and poke my tongue at his teeth. Once our tongue collide a jolt of energy slides down my neck, dancing over my breasts, and finally stops at my middle. However, the French kissing is short lived because he pyres his lips from my grip and slowly leans to my neck where he attacks the sensitive, pale skin with sucks, bites, and bruises. Just as I get very into the kiss he pulls away, looks at me, and then attacks my neck.

After several purr-like moans escape my throat, he removes his hand from my southern rosy, nub and replaces them on my shirt. As he rucks up the dress like outfit, he looks into my eyes. "No bra," he murmurs before plummets his face to my nipple.

As his swollen, scarlet lips nibble and suck on my peach colored buds in the center of my breast, he cups the other, lonely, mound and massages it. All the stimulation is causing my vagina to flood, since with Daniel he would usually stick his dick in and thrust until he came, not concerned if I finished.

Lost in my thoughts, I don't realize that the sex god had removed his mouth from my chest until he places a wet kiss just above my core. With the sudden buck of my hips, I practically beg him to pleasure me with my legs wide open.

The moment he reaches my aching pussy, he glances up to me so I can finally get a good look at him. His deep, obsidian eyes stare with such force I could faint. The pupils are barely distinguishable from the irises, which aids to his sultry, almost sinister, appearance. As I gaze into his eyes I notice his lips, which I now appreciate all their beauty with the strawberry-like complexion and fullness to take on mine mouth. But perhaps my favorite feature is the small, barely noticeable freckle on the tip of his button nose. Although, it does compete with the deep indentations just to the side of each corner of his mouth- his dimples.

But the thoughts are paused once he delves his tongue onto my soaking folds. With every flick and suck on my throbbing clitoris, I feel my body inch closer to the euphoric state of orgasm. With my nails digging deep into his upper back he inserts one finger into my hole and pumps it quickly.

After seconds of curling and thrusting his thick extremity inside me, he removes his mouth and growls, "Evan."

"W-what?" I stutter as he rubs circles with his thumb around my peak.

"My name is Evan- scream it," he demands while slowly pulling his finger out of me, purposely teasing me.

Shyly, I breathe out, "Evan," which earns a grunt from him as he continues to shove his magic fingers in and out of my aching hole. Moaning his name louder I feel myself seconds from releasing until he suddenly removes his mouth and hand from me, leaving my core cold and wet.

My eyes widen when he pulls his jeans down, revealing a large bulge in his boxers. Staring in awe I whimper when he places his hand on the back of my neck and demands, "it's my turn," while grabbing his crotch.

"But I never..." I trail off and stare at the sheets, embarrassed by the fact.

"Never given head?" he mutters with a smirk, but takes a deep breath. "I'll teach you," he assures me with a light squeeze of my hand.

He latches his grip around my wrist and moves it to his mouth, and I furrow my brows at the strange action but almost choke when he spits in my palm. "Relax," he commands. "We need a lubricant," he explains as he moves my hand to his now exposed cock.

When he loosens the grasp around my wrist, I move my thumb around the head that is pre-cum. After a few seconds of moving the liquid around, he informs me to wrap my hand around the veiny shaft.

Getting the idea, I slowly move my palm up and down while looking up at him for approval. With the release of his grip I speed the pace and lick my lips. The sound of Evan's heavy, uneven breaths give me a satisfaction that I am indeed doing well.

A grin takes over my face at the touch of his stiffening length, but when the pressure of his palm on the back of my neck confuses me until he shoves me closer to his member, indicating that he wants my mouth on it now, so I slowly part my lips and gulp. His cock is the by far the largest I've ever seen and is definitely intimidating, but also a turn-on.

When I finally pull his length into my warm, wet mouth, a grunt escapes Evan's throat. The moment I bob my head and increase suction I notice a flicker in his eyes until he shuts them and throws his head back. "Use more pressure," he utters, between sharp breaths. Following his orders I suck my cheeks in and even inch my head further down his member, until it hits the back of my throat. "T-Taissa, Faster!" he commands in a low-pitched voice. Remembering what I saw in a porno I watched once, I wrap my hand around the bottom of his shaft and move it as fast as possible while I do the same with my mouth.

Just as I think I'm doing all I can, Evan chokes out, "Play with my nuts."

With my mouth full I try to speak but nothing comes out. He ignores my obviously shocked expression and guides my free hand to his scrotum. I cup my hand and allow the loose skin to bounce in my hand while I gently massage them.

As I notice his shaft harden for the last time I begin to suspect he's about to release, so I brace myself to swallow.

However, he pulls out from my mouth and flips me to my back. As he cups my cheeks and gazes into my eyes, he whispers, "I'm going to fuck you now."

His statement, so bold and demanding, is so alluring that my pussy instantly responds by dampening for, what seems like, the hundredth time.

"Fuck, Evan!" I tremble as he slams his rock hard cock into me. As his hips hit my own, creating a steady rhythm, he bites and kisses my collarbone while holding himself up by anchoring his arms to the wall.

The sensation of his thick member filling me up is almost too much to handle, but then he attempts to turn on his back but sort of fails- removing himself from my warm oasis.

Eventually he fixes himself and pulls me on top to ride him. Before filling me up, he pulls my face down to his and plants a kiss on my lips. Situating my body correctly, I slowly allow the tip of his throbbing member penetrate me as Evan grips my hips to pull them down.

Soon enough, I get the hang of it and jump on him while he caresses my breasts as they bounce before him. Again, he yanks me down to place his needy lips to mine as he frantically thrusts from underneath me.

When his hand makes its way to my clit, I purr at the sensation of it being stimulated. I slam myself faster and harder down on him as he pleasures me to the maximum.

With an unfamiliar fire pooling in my lower and time slowing down, a jolt of nerves fly around my body, jerking and twitching every inch. Evan's pulse is actually felt from him inside me, which aids to the immense pleasure I'm currently experiencing.

Just as I'm finishing, a warm liquid shoots inside me as Evan begins to curse and scream my name. Immediately, the shockwaves rippling throughout my entire body intensify as my walls tightly contract around Evan, never wanting to release him. I dissolve into the pleasure while he rides out his orgāsm inside me, continually kissing my lips and cupping my breasts.

After thirty seconds, I slide off him and lay on my back to the sound of him huffing and panting. Realizing what I've done, I stare at the ceiling mortified and exposed- I finally had the guts to screw someone else.

"That was..." he exhales deeply, "electrifying." I nod my head but pay no mind to him because the thoughts of comparison between my asshole ex-boyfriend and the enticing Evan. However, when he tosses my t-shirt at me and then shimmies into his boxers I gawk. His perfectly defined arms with veins popping out and muscles slightly bulging snake around my body to pull me into him. Instead of coming up with an excuse for him to leave or trying to speak about what happened, I close my eyes to finally fall asleep. But his smooth lips disturb me- leaving a wet kiss on my forehead and a wide smile on my face.

The next morning I wake up to an empty bed with a fresh indent of a body. Becoming sad at the realization he just wanted a way to distract me I slug to the living room.

Looking at the time I realize Maggie will be home in a few hours and I haven't even called the police, but being to depressed by being abandoned I stroll to the kitchen instead of cleaning, looking for some comfort food.

The sight of black, shiny bags stops me from digging through the refrigerator. On my way to the sacks I notice a small note sitting on the counter:

 _Taissa,_

 _I'll be back tonight. Same time._

With a smirk spread widely across my face, I take the note to my room for safe keeping where I find my belongings along with my phone lit up with a text from Maggie: **_hope you had fun. ;) xx_**


	7. The Interview

"Vi?"

The sound of the whiny, high-pitched of my boss causes me to instantly spin to the source where a very unhappy woman is frowning at me.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?" The tone of her words is enough to know the answer should be no but I have no other ideas and quite frankly don't care enough- after all, my job is to interview not impress.

"Um, yeah," I eventually muster up and try to focus my gaze anywhere but her reddening face.

Truthfully, I don't see the problem with my attire being that it's very business chic. But as I stare into the mirror at my red maltese circle a-line skirt with a white shirt delicately tucked in and blue polka dot blazer to complete the look, I only notice her brows furrowed so far that it appears she'll leave permanent marks.

"Violet," she begins with a drawn out, over dramatic sigh, "you're going to be interviewing celebrities tonight-on the red carpet! You look fine if you'd be working here but tonight is the Golden Globes!"

Each word is coated with venomous sting of her pitch. Clearly my boss isn't pleased with my outfit choice and could be considering taking me off the job, which would ruin my chances at making it big as a reporter.

However, when she looks through a rack of dresses, my mood changes.  
"Here," she grits after shoving a dress my way. "You are wearing this."

As she shows me to a fitting room I admire the expensive clothing and silently thank her for her good style.

Upon slipping out of my offensive outfit, I begin to step into the gown, which I soon find out isn't a gown after all.

In fact, it's actually a skirt and top. The bottom is a tangerine, voluminous maxi skirt that flows from my waist to millimeters above the ground, perfectly.

The shirt is a bit more complicated to wear since its tiny. It's almost like the baby doll, bib style. Once the white, crop top is on, barely covering my back and not enough cloth to allow a bra to be worn, I admire how the fabric fits all of my curves and do enjoy the high neckline.

I even wonder how much it all costs but lose interest once I see my full reflection and twirl a few times.

"Let's go, Violet! Hair and makeup is waiting!"

And at the click of her heel, or fingers, two people have whisked me away to the wonderful retreat of pampering.

Finally, an hour later, they've finished with me, and now it's my turn to gawk. The mirror shows that my long locks have been put into a large bun with a few wisps of hair curled at the side. And the dangling gold earrings attached my ears compliment my pale, slender neck; I can't imagine myself looking any better- that is until I glance at my eyes.

The once boring and routine make up has been replaced with a cat eye look and peach colored lipstick. Although everything looks simple, I still feel magnificent and gorgeous.

After receiving the approval from my boss, one of the producers escorts me to the van where I'll be transported to the award show.

"Relax and remember most of the people are nice," the young woman begins and already is annoying me. I've been over this hundreds of times with my boss, co-workers, and self. "If you feel uncomfortable just take a deep breath and count to three. I know I gave you the list of who to interview but I also need you to add some of the cast of AHS since the theme of the next season is releasing in a week. So, Jessica Lange, Sarah Paulson, Tate Langdon, Zachary Quinton, and the director if he's there. Okay?"

I nod my head but only caught the last part since she tends to ramble.

Finally, I'm being pushed into the company van where I'm forced to sit next to my snobby co-worker, and we even eventually discuss interviewing celebrities

"I can't believe you get to interview Dylan O'Brien!" I squeal while trying to keep my cool.

He's definitely one of my favorite actors because he's actually talented and super hot.

"Yeah, well you get to interview Tate Langdon! He's so dreamy with his blonde waves and charcoal eyes! I'd give anything to speak with that god," the overly whiny girl says while dragging out each word and ending it with a pout.

However, I grin at her envy because she's always trying to one up me, but looks like tonight I've won.

Yet, she doesn't give up. "We can trade if you want? I do Tate, you do Dylan?"

Her pathetic pleas only cause me to chuckle. There's no way I'm letting this one go! It could push my career to the place I need to be and no matter how attractive Dylan is. I won't give in to that bitch's request.

"No way! Tate is mine today," I object and lightly hit her arm to imply it's all in good fun but truthfully want to punch her in the face.

Of course, she scoffs and rolls her eyes back at me but she doesn't faze me. I'm about to interview some of the most talked about celebrities from the greatest movie to be released!

"Whatever," she begins and pops her gum- her signature. "Hopefully I can persuade Dylan to give me his number."

Her desire is almost hysterical because there's no way a celebrity, a hot one at that, would go for a money hungry, clown make up wearing, bimbo like herself.

So instead of hearing her babble on and on about how she'll get his number, I shove my headphones in and hum along to the song until we reach the destination.

Fifteen minutes later the car halts and that's our cue to get out. So when one of the crewmen is guiding me with a bulky camera I become instantly nervous.

"You ready?" The tall, young man asks with a raspy voice.

I haven't noticed he's set up and even has a microphone in his hand for me since I've been preoccupied with repeating my questions in my head. He licks his rough lips at me and I try to ignore the gag feeling I have.

"Yeah. Ready as I'll ever be."

Once the music begins to play lightly in the background and a few C-list celebrities arrive, I start to exhale while trying to crack my neck and taking deep breaths.

The important people will be arriving in just a few minutes, so I do one last make up and hair check before standing in position to begin interviews.

The sound of fans screaming indicates someone famous has arrived so I try to peek and spot Brad and Angelina, but of course E! news snags them before I can even try to get their attention.

So instead I grab Justin Timberlake and do a quick interview to waste some time.

After a long hour of pointless conversations and fake compliments, I finally notice the last group I need: American Horror Story.

So, when I snag Sarah and Jessica at the same time I think it's a miracle.

I ask them questions about season two in hopes they'll slip, but they tell me the same as everyone else: it's called Freakshow and Sarah will be double trouble.

After getting through that painfully boring conversation I spot Zachary, and we actually have an amazing talk. He's just the sweetest person and even compliments me!

Luckily, I also find Ryan, so we can discuss season one: Asylum.  
The two and I talk about the second season titled Freakshow, and Ryan actually releases a new piece of information, which will totally give me a bonus.

Then, as I lose hope for finding Tate Langdon, the most attractive person I've ever laid eyes on walks up to Ryan.

He looks me up and down and flashes a devilish grin, which causes me to swoon and my knees to buckle, but thankfully I keep my composure so I don't mess this up and look like a fan-girl.

Truthfully, I've only watched the show twice, being that I'm so busy, but I do recall noticing that Tate is cute, but this isn't cute- no it's gorgeous, godly even!

Luckily for me, Ryan and Zachary quickly excuse themselves, leaving me alone with the alluring man.

"H-hi, I have some questions for you Mr. Langdon." I manage to blurt out, feeling like an idiot.

I've never been nervous around celebrities, no matter how gorgeous, but this man is sparking new emotions.

He looks at me with his darting, soot eyes and nods his head.

Exhaling a bit too loudly, I begin. "Okay, well first of all since we've found the awful fate of your wives, who would you chose to save during season one? Alma or Grace- or none at all?"

He licks his thick, fluffy, raspberry colored lips and looks at my dress again.  
"Grace. She was troubled but she brought something out in Kit that no one could. She essentially saved his life. Plus that French tongue is wild!"

His last statement nearly causes me to choke but luckily I control myself and let out a light chuckle.

"How sweet. Is there anything new about season two you can share?" I ask with my best pout and widen my whiskey colored doe-eyes.

"As you know, it will be a surprise, but I am signed on for it, sweet thing."

The disappointment of his tight lips soon washes away when the pet name rolls off his tongue. _Thee_ Tate Langdon called me sweet thing and even winked my way.

This dress must have super powers because everyone is giving me extra attention tonight.

After all the basic questions that I was forced to memorize, I realize that he still wants to engage in conversation so I search my mind for unique inquiries so I don't appear like some machine only spitting pointless questions.

"I know you're nearly done with filming a new movie, which seems super rad if I may add." I silently chuckle at my unintentional rhyme and catch a smirk grow on Tate's face as well.

"It's called the Lazarus Effect, correct? Is there anything you can tell us?"

"Wow," He breathes out, ignoring my question entirely.

"Wha-" I ask while fixing my dress and turning around to see if his on-again off-again, currently off, girlfriend has arrived, but there's no one around.

"You're the first person to ask me about something other than American Horror Story," he announces with a child-like smile.

The statement immediately causes me to blush and look down since I'm unsure if that's a good thing or just shocking.

Before starting up again, he places his palm on my wrist. "I'm so glad," he whispers with a half-smile.

"Well, I can tell you that it will be bizarre but very realistic. My character is smart but a total ass. His death is very ironic. Oh shit- I just revealed I die."

He and I chuckle simultaneously, but only my breath hitches when he places his hand on my mostly bare shoulder while I hold the microphone closer to him.

"I'll still see it! From what I hear, it's really unique and thrilling."

He nods and smiles before giving my deltoid one last squeeze.

"Anyways," I let out before clearing my throat, "I have a last question, Tate."

His smile fades to an exaggerated pout, but when my cheeks turn scarlet, he nudges me and allows his lips to curve upward, revealing his trademark dimples for the _n_ th time tonight.

Before speaking, I study his face and realize it's more perfect up close. With his newly golden locks and perfectly plump and pink lips it's hard to decipher his best feature. But many would argue that his eyes, so dark that the pupil and iris are barely distinguishable, are the most alluring part of him. However, I disagree and stand by my opinion that his smile, in all its glory, is by far his best feature.

Yet tonight, it wouldn't be easy to pick a favorite because he looks so gorgeous with his tresses wildly messy and body stuffed in a navy suit.

"Are you okay?" His deep voice interrupts my concentration on his physique.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, it must be from standing all day," I lie while straightening my back and pushing nonexistent hairs behind my ear.

"Well-"

He pauses and furrows his brows, which confuses me once again. This man is too hard to read.

"I never got your name. I don't know what to call you, besides beautiful."

This time, with his obvious display of attraction to me, I don't try hide my smile.

"It's Violet," I say through a giggle.

I know my cheeks are burning with all my blood flushing them, but I don't care. Tate is making me feel important and beautiful, so I'll give in, only for tonight.

"Ravishing," he coos, as if he couldn't become more wondrous.

However, I know my boss isn't appreciating the flirting, so I come up with a filler question until I can pull myself together.

"What are you looking forward to doing in the future?"

Once the sentence leaves my mouth I instantly reprimand myself for the lame-ness. But truthfully, I can't think straight since the discovery of his attraction towards me.

Expecting a basic 'settled with kids and a wife' answer I prepare for a witty come back. However, when he smirks, grins, and clears his throat, I have a feeling that it's not going to be so typical.

"You," is all he utters before chuckling.

His word causes me to cough on the air I sucked in seconds earlier.

The fact that this is live only adds to me anxiety. So naturally I begin to wobble in my five-inch heels and back up slightly in attempts to break the daze.

With the bug eye stare from the cameraman, I know I have to recover ASAP.

"D-do you see yourself getting married soon? Having children? Doing more movies? Tell us your next move, Mr. Langdon!"

"Violet, can we stop rolling?" he asks in hushed tone, eyeing me and then the crewmember.

"Seems Tate is late for the award show, so that's all we have for tonight. Thank you for your time, Mr. Langdon. We look forward to watching you on American Horror Story and in your new debut film: The Lazarus Effect."

Once the cameraman nods I exhale. Finally done with my work today- or so I thought.

"Violet? I want to talk one-on-one. So feel free to ask any of your itching questions."

The tone of his voice is smooth and deep, like dark roasted coffee. But his skin is milky and almost glimmering in the dull light.

With a loud gulp, I start rack my brain for the perfect question that will land me a promotion.

"What's the plot of Freakshow? More importantly, what's your character like?"

A sly smile creeps on his smug face, as he knows I won't give up easily.

After a chuckle he starts, "Not letting go of that one, eh?"

In response I vigorously shake my head and allow a soft smile to take over my lips.

"I can't tell ya that exactly but I can say that my character has a special... deformity that works to his advantage."

I crinkle my forehead at the vague statement as I try to figure out what he me means.

"And, I would love to show you how," he adds with a wink.

"What's the deformity?" I ask boldly but then hush myself because he could get in serious trouble for leaking this information.

"I'm glad you asked, Vi."

The sound of my nickname leaving his velvety lips is almost enough for me to hop into his arms but my surroundings bring me back to reality and force me to inhale sharply when the sound of his deep voice.

"You see my character looks normal-no, hot, that is until you see his hands."

Still utterly bewildered, I squint my eyes in hopes of understanding.

However, it's only when he grabs my wrist to demonstrate that I fully comprehend what he means.

"These two..." he mumbles while grasping my pointer and middle finger together, "are conjoined. And the other two," he pinches the ring and pinkie finger creating a mutant hand, "are also conjoined. Leaving to large fingers. Perfect for... helping others out."

The insinuation of his last line nearly causes me to faint since _thee_ Tate Langdon is basically offering sexual acts to me.

Of course, before I can come up with anything witty to say, Tate leans in close enough so I can feel his hot breath tickling my neck.

"Care to go elsewhere?" he asks in such a low tone I almost missed it but his hand snaking around my waist gives me opens my ears.

Although the offer is extremely tempting, it could hurt my career and more importantly end in tears. I hardly know the guy and he wants to see me naked.

So I open my mouth to protest but instead, as if I have no will power, I nod my head.

"This way, duchess," he coaxes and runs small circles on my bare back.

Moments later we're escorted to a limo. And once I slide in I gasp at the sight of dozens of bottles of champagne and expensive leather seating.

When I spot the sunroof I feel a child-like sensation take over and a giggle even makes it way out of me.

"I've always wanted to stand out of that and feel the wind." I mutter and point to the opening, embarrassed by my random confession.

Without a word, Tate taps a button and stands as the glass slides back and opens to allow the warm winter air to skim our bodies.

"Shall we?" he says with a smirk and s hand extended for me.

When I finally have the gut to stick my head out the window, I finally understand why cliché Hollywood movies add this scene. It's relaxing and rebelling at the same time.

With the wind blowing on my hair, causing my bun to become messy, I feel like a free woman with no worries and no obligations.

"This is awesome!" I shout over the sound of air hitting us.

Seconds later I turn to Tate to see his reaction but only find him staring at me with a silly smile.

Feeling awkward I try to fix my air and furrow my brows at him.

"What? Do I have something-"

However, I'm not allowed to finish the sentence because Tate's soft, buxom lips interrupt by sucking on my bottom lip.

Of course, reciprocate by moving in sync with him as I feel his hands cup my face and pull me closer.

After a few seconds of kissing, Tate tugs us back into the limo and uses more force and even yanks me on his lap.

As his large hands explore my lower body I take the opportunity to use my tongue.

So when he grants me entrance, and our tongues touch, a shock sensation flows over my entire body and straight down to my core. I can feel my middle become slick with its own fluid.

However, it's when he latches his mouth to a spot slightly under my ear that I lose all control.

In one swift movement I unzip my top and fling it across the back seat and grab his face to replenish my thirst for his cherry tasting lips.

The mere sensation of his cold hands on my warm breasts are almost enough to cūm, but being that I'm not even close to the maximum pleasure potential, I hold back.

But the sudden halt of the vehicle forces me to pull away and investigate the situation.

With Tate's hands still sliding over my body and mouth on one of my pink nipples, I barely have the energy to muster up, "Where are we?"

However, the little squeak is audible to Tate. He instantly pops the petal-like bud from his mouth and murmurs, "

"A Capo restaurant. I'm taking you out," he announces as if it's no big deal that he's bringing me on a date to one of the most expensive eateries in Los Angeles.

Blushing a bright red, I thank him and attempt to fix my top but he beats me to it by slow zipping it up.

...

"I've had such a wonderful time, Tate." I whisper as he helps me slide back in to the car.

"Oh darling, but the night has just begun."

And with that he smirks as the car speeds off in a new direction.

Of course, we kiss and feel around the entire drive but keep all our clothes on.

"You are so fascinating, Violet," he mutters as we arrive to his hotel, pulling his red, swollen lips from my aching ones.

Like the gentlemen he is, he quickly runs from the car to my side, to hold it open for me.

When I realize where we are, I nearly gasp. Before me stands the Sheraton hotel, and I have a feeling he's snagged that pent house.

Upon arriving to his room, the penthouse as I assumed, I almost expect him to vicious attack me with his wonder lips, but surprisingly he guides me to a seat while he makes us a quick drink.

"Violet, do you want to..." he trails off as he hands me a tall glass of martini.

Obviously, I understand his discrete question, but I'm unsure of how to respond because I've never been treated so delicately- and I'm not sure what I want.

So instead of a definite answer, I slowly stand up and walk towards him with my eyes locked on his.

Where the night takes us is fine with me, but for now I want it to be a surprise.

Grabbing the bank of his neck, I shove his face to mine and instantly dance my tongue around his lower lip until he lets me in. All the compliments and spoiling had me feeling extra bold and beautiful.

"Yes" I breathe out.

Within seconds he has my legs wrapped around his muscular waist, so I kick my heels off and focus on his tender lips to savor the moment longer.

Also, I tug on his soft curls while sucking on his top lip with much force. The time we spend with our lips locked seems like a lifetime, yet still not enough.

Needless to say I'm disappointed when he pulls his perfect lips from mine, but my body does begin to jolt when he places wet kisses down my jaw line and eventually to my neck. The shivers are immediately sent down my spine and force a muffled moan to surface from my throat.

"Now," Tate groans while twirling one of the straps of my shirt, "this outfit is gorgeous but I think it'll look better on the floor."

Before I could even protest, he forces me to the wall and lifts me up higher to unzip the crop top.

Once my breasts are freely bouncing in the cold air, he lets me down but reattaches our needy lips as he yanks his navy suit jacket off, and when I hear it hit the ground I smile into his mouth because I know we'll be connected in other ways in a short while.

Eventually, after moments of tender kissing, he pulls apart to rip off his bow tie and dress shirt. The action causes a slick, wet heat to run down to my throbbing pussy.

While he does that I let my hair down and remove the earrings dangling from my ears.

Expecting to be thrown around, I'm genuinely surprised when he jerks me to stand up and gazes over my naked torso and even caresses my warm cheek.

"You are truly a radiant, angelic little thing. I'm so glad I found you tonight," he whispers before laying me down on the soft bed and runs his calloused hands up my body.

Being horny and impatient, I decide to take some initiative and pull him down to me so I can kiss down his neck to his collarbone. And he moans while playing with my hair gently as I leave love bites down his superb chest.

Eventually, I rub circles on his crotch until I feel his bulge harden to the point the jeans may burst. So I flip him on his back and kiss above the waistband while swiftly unbuckling his belt.

Once I tug down his trousers and boxers, I smirk at the sight of his erection springing to my nose. Before I stimulate him, I lick my dry lips and glance up into his dark, wandering eyes.

Then, I grab his cock and lightly suck on the throbbing head that's dripping in pre-cum and run my hand up his veiny shaft. His groans and whimpers give me the energy to speed up my actions and even let out a moan.

Then, when the sensation of Tate's cold hand on my bottom sparks through me, I hollow my cheeks to the maximum and bob my head as quickly as possible.

Every time the soft tip of his cock hits the back of my mouth; my middle grows slightly damper.

With the enormous erection engulfed in my warm, wet mouth, and using both my hands, I finally feel him grow to his maximum length, indicating he's on the brink of releasing. So, I suck harder and move faster knowing that he's moments from erupting into my mouth, and of course, a few seconds later the hot liquid shoots in my mouth and slides smoothly down my throat. When I gulp loud enough for him to realize I'm not spitting, I pop his still extremely hard dick out of my mouth and give it one last lick.

"Atta girl," he mumbles before pulling me up and laying me on the mattress.

Unlike the other men I've been with, he tenderly kisses me after the act even though most are disgusted by the mere thought of their own liquid near their mouth.

With my hands restrained above my head, Tate runs his mouth all over the front of my body, starting from my neck and ending right above the waist of my skirt.

Then, coming back up to my two mounds, he takes one petal-like bud in his hand and pinches while taking the other slowly into his wet mouth. With all the stimulation, I arch my back and let several moans escape my throat as warmth spreads through my body.

"Tate!" I cry out as he takes my skirt up to snakes his hand under up to my middle.

When he reaches the mound he runs one finger around my clothed clit and gasps instantly.

"You're so wet!" he announces in a low shout, which causes me to blush but he pays no attention to that part of me.

Instead, he hovers me and gazes into my eyes with a wide grin before he drops to his knees and gets lost in my skirt. Once the sensation of his freezing fingers yanking my soaking panties to the ground is known, I gasp. But moments later my breath is taken away when he runs one of his thick fingers up my slit to soak in its wetness.

However, my pleasure is short lived because seconds later he removes his hand, leaving me confused and wondering what he's doing underneath the large heap of cotton.

Suddenly, he appears from the skirt and lifts me up by placing one hand on the small of my back.

"You taste decadent," he murmurs before tugging the bottom off me.

Before I process that he tasted my juices, he plunges face first into my core and sucks my clit into his mouth, abusing it with his warm tongue. And as if I couldn't be more satisfied, Tate sticks two fingers into me and pumps as fast as he can, causing the bed frame to rattle against the wall.

Then, Tate pulls away entirely and lifts his glistening finger to my face and waits for me to suck it in.

Obliging completely, I pop the extremity into my mouth and lick it clean, tasting my own fluid to turn Tate on more.

"Oh I can't wait to taste your sugar again," he grunts and then moves down to bites my thighs.

I've come to notice that Tate loves to watch me squirm and beg for his touch, and I comply by tugging on his blonde locks and force his head to the throbbing problem between my legs.

Finally, he dives back in and between licks and sucks he murmurs, "Mmmm, delicious."

With more thrusts of his fingers and punching of his tongue on my southern nub. Then, unlike any other man has done, Tate drags his tongue down to my opening and plunges deep into it while trailing his finger to my pulsing, rosy bud.

Before I can even let out a proper moan, ecstasy courses through my veins and Before I can contemplate, I burst into ecstasy, like an explosion in my lower abdomen as the walls of my pussy contract around three of Tate's magical fingers.

Finally, when the most intense pleasure is over, I scramble to sit up. Panting from the momentary loss of breath, I mumble "Tate," while rolling over to tuck myself under the duvet.

However, Tate doesn't feel the same because before I can get comfortable his grip on my bicep yanks me.

"Lovely, it ain't over yet," he whispers while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and caressing my face tenderly as he places a kiss on my forehead.

Thinking he's going to pounce any second I prepare myself but as the minutes pass by with tender kissing and touching, I get the idea that he's going to take it slow.

So, taking initiative, I grab his semi-hard cock and slide my hand up and down it until it's hard enough to fit inside. Then I climb on top of him and slide his erection up my slit until it's covered in my fluid.

I yell out in pleasure as his thick tip pokes through my tight entrance and grip his shoulders with my nails when I feel him thrusting upward to have our hips touch.

We both create a steady rhythm of skin slapping and moans filling the large hotel room.

"F-fuck Violet," he grumbles with his hands suctioned on my waist.

"I'm on the pill," I announce so he knows not to pull out since I can feel his dick pulse and twitch inside me.

The very second he begins to release his hot, sticky semen inside me, my world stops for the second time and my body becomes limp with the immense pleasure.

With my breasts bouncing in his face and his orgasm pumping through him, a wide grin and almost a glimmer of love appears on his face.

When we're both breathless and exhausted, I roll of him and half expect him to ask me to leave but when he snakes his sweaty arm around my bare torso and places wet kisses down my neck and onto my back.

"Stay with me- for a while?" he asks in a child-like manner with his hand tightening around mine and head nuzzled into my neck.

"Of course," I answer while wrapping my arms around him and pulling his body in closer.

...

The next day at work my boss and co-workers greet me with smiles and winks. Assuming they all know how Tate flirted with me, I grin back at my advantage.

Upon returning the dress I run into my awful co-worker. Of course, the snobby reporter stomps up to me with a smile and giggle coming from her. "Dylan winked at me and held my hand!" she practically shouts, but I only roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt to make me jealous.

However, she notices and begins to protest. "More than what you got, Violet!" she fake jokes and nudges me.

I only chuckle and nod my head thinking of the second date I have tonight with the images of Tate last night replaying in my head.

 _If only she knew._


	8. The Butler

A/N: Thank you to so much to **deviousflower** for her amazing support! Also a big thanks to guest, **IloveViolate** , and **princessoftherock** for the kind reviews! :) p.s. **princessoftherock** , I'm working on the Kit and OC chapter!

"How much longer?" I ask my mother while gathering my belongings into a tote bag.

"Fifteen minutes! Clean up back there and make sure you have everything," she yells while making a sharp turn, nearly causing me to fly across the back seat of her car.

Unfortunately I've been stuck in this vehicle for eleven hours since the drive from North Carolina to New Orleans is so long. But it was the only option because my parents are moving across the pond to Ireland for my father's job that is relocating.

Luckily, they gave me choices: uproot with them and start a new life or board with my great aunt Fiona who recently moved, with the help of her dead husbands money, to the french city and do whatever I please.

Of course, I've chosen Fiona, for more reasons than just freedom.

Eventually, we pull up to a large piece of land with a long driveway, and halfway through we are stopped by a gate and forced to seek assistance by pressing a button.

Thirty seconds later it creeks open and my mother slowly continues up the cobblestone path to reveal a gorgeous black and white colonial.

Once we make it to the front, my mother stops the car and I can already hear her light sobs. But, not being one for the dramatic or tears, I hop out to grab my luggage to speed things along. However, a familiar high-pitched voice stops me in my tracks.

"Zoe!" my overly excited aunt shouts as she trots over to the car in her six-inch stilettos. "I've missed you so much!" she squeals while wrapping her arms around me. The tight hug nearly crushes me but I smile anyways; Fiona has always been so welcoming and kind since she never had no children of her own.

"You look more beautiful than the last time I saw you! Didn't even know that was possible!" she rambles while playing with my recently honey colored locks.

Remembering what my mother told me about her expectations, I lean in to kiss her cheek before turning around to grab my belongings. To my surprise, I only find an empty space. I swivel the other way, thinking I placed them on the opposite side but am also meet with nothing.

"Where's my-" I ask while darting my eyes around the drive way. Surely the luggages couldn't have gone far on its own.

However, like the nonchalant woman she is, she cuts me off and announces, "The butler is taking it to your room!"

When the word butler leaves her mouth I can't help but deepen the crinkle in my forehead. I knew she was extravagant but a servant? Fiona lives alone since her late husband passed and although the house is large, I think she'd manage.

Then I remember stories of her and realize she's probably sleeping with the guy. For an older woman she's definitely attractive.

"Now say goodbye to your mother so I can give you the tour. I can't believe it's been two years, Zoe! " she nudges me but first says her goodbyes. Once I kiss and hug my mother for the final time, for a few months at least, tears stream down my cheeks. Suddenly I regret not going with her but she promises to call me the moment she lands and visit as soon as possible.

When I arrive to my room, still flustered about the huge change, I find my suitcases neatly stacked by the side of my bed and wonder when the mysterious butler came in. Also, I notice there's no sheets or comforter on the bed, so I begin my hunt for the bed materials but am stopped by a brick wall of a chest.

Looking up to find out who I just slammed into, I immediately feel my temperature rise. A pair of of piercing, hollow charcoal eyes greet me as I gawk at them for longer than I should.

But I can't help it because I've never been faced with such beautiful, and pained, orbs. It's hard not to notice the unique irises that sit in his eyes, so dark that it's not distinguishable between the pupil at this distance.

Finally snapping out of my daze, I realize my hands are splayed across his chest that's covered by a white button up shirt that it's a bit too tight for my nerves to handle. The man before me is polished and poised in a black suit and tie.

Moments later, the beauty speaks. "Sorry Miss," he mutters and politely pushes past me.

Almost as if I'm under a spell, I trail behind him like a lost puppy until we meet back to my room.

As he begins to dress the bed I realize he's the butler- far too young for my aunt, I hope.

"Oh, no. I can do that," I insist, feeling awful that this man has to take on more work because of me.

However, the stranger only ignores my command and continues to do his job.

"Please, let me," I mumble while walking over to him with my hand extended.

Eventually, when he's finished, he steps back and allows me to settle in.

"If you need anything, there's a bell by your bed," he murmurs while eyeing my bare thighs.

I knew there was a reason I chose a short skirt today.

Nodding, I take one last look at him and notice his adorable curls. Although some would say it's a bit messy, I think it's the perfection combination between tamed and wild. Staring at his blank expression I figure he's in his early twenties, but my eyes continually forcing back to his torso. His button down shirt practically bursts from his tight muscles but he doesn't seem to notice or mind.

Before he leaves I take in his pale skin that contrasts beautifully with his dark, soul-revealing eyes.

He struts out but then quickly turns to face me at the doorway. The butler gives me a puzzled look when I realized I'm biting my lip and grilling his body.

The air in this room is so thick with awkwardness that I could cut it with a knife.

Then he clears his throat and raises his eyebrows, which only confuses me further.

"Huh?" is all I can let out since my breath has been stolen from my lungs the second he licked his plump, scarlet lips.

His presence is intoxicating, almost like we were made to excite one another, except I don't know how he feels about me. Hell, I don't know if he's even single. Yet, I don't care. Something about his sad boy vibe turns me on but I know there's more to him, maybe even something dark, and I just have to find out.

"I said, do you need anything else before I leave?" he repeats, and only now I realize he was talking while I was gawking.

"No. T-thank you," I respond and become aware of how damp my palms are.

With one last nod, he hastily strides out of my new room, as if he couldn't stand my existence.

However, a few seconds later I realize I never caught his name, and although it's silly, I ring the bell. Truthfully, I just want an excuse to see him again.

After five minutes I think he's either ignoring me or too far to hear it, but then a light knock comes from outside my door.

With a muffled, "Come in," from me, he creeps in through the crack of the door.

"What can I get you?" he asks while twiddling his thumb. Now that the lights are off I can appreciate him more with the sunlight pouring in.

The bags under his eyes are more vibrant and visible, indicating he mostly likely hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. Also, there's a large scar that forms just under the duct of his left eye and drags out to the middle of his cheek. Wondering what, or who, caused that I feel myself slipping from reality into thoughts of comforting him.

However, a cough forced from his throat awakens me once again, and so I scratch the back of my neck.

Now feeling immature for calling him back to the room for something so insignificant, I begin to think of something else to ask but can't think of anything quick enough.

"Uh, I never got your name," I mutter while tugging on the clean bed sheets.

"Kyle" he responds blandly, almost annoyed that I wasted his time.

"My name is-" I begin to announce but, of course, he cuts me off.

"Zoelle- I know."

This time he chuckles, probably reveling in my embarrassing actions, but I am rewarded by a peek of his two deep dimples.

"R-right. But I like to be called Zoe," I retort with as much attitude as I can muster up.

"Anything else I can do for you?"he asks for the fifth time today.

I shake my head and look down as I feel a blush form on my cheeks.

"Okay," he whispers. "Dinner will be served at five. See you then, Miss Zoe."

His formality is adorable, almost sexy, but then he walks out without a smile or another word, leaving me alone with thoughts of his naked body. This time, focusing on his round butt.

* * *

After the great meal cooked by Kyle, I shower to get ready for bed since I've had a long day.

By the time I exit my en suite, I notice the house is exceptionally quiet. Remembering what my parents told me about her, I realize she's already asleep.

So, what better way to kill boredom than explore the enormous home that I'll be living in for a while?

As I walk around, exploring seven of the eight bedrooms, three living rooms, two movie-style theater, and several other useless rooms, I wonder why my single aunt has so much space. But all the thoughts fade when I stumble into a massive library.

The sound of my gasps actually echoes in the room, which is nearly the size of the school library from my former high school. As I walk over to the poetry section I scan until I find work by Pablo Neuroda and Walt Whitman.

I can't believe my aunt, who doesn't seem to be big on reading, has a library stocked with the pieces of legendary authors. So when I finally find something I want to read, I snatch it and plop on one of the many chaise lounges to read the night hours away.

However, a few minutes later a deep chuckle causes me to jump and nearly toss my book.

When I finally compose myself I find Kyle leaning on the door frame, which exposes his muscular arms and allows his veins to bulge. Then I notice he's sans shirt, and that only adds to my frustration that is creeping back from earlier.

The way his toned chest glistens in the dim light could send me into a trance of lust, but since I've only been here for a few hours I make sure to stay in control for at least a full twenty-four hours.

"Like what you see?" he asks as I continue to obviously stare at his built body.

"I-I-I wasn't-"

He smirks before interrupting my humiliating attempt to explain myself. "I didn't know you liked to read. And Whitman? I would've guessed your a Shakespeare kinda girl."

I silently thank God that he wasn't talking about his gorgeous body, but then I allow my eyes run over the rest of him. And he looks the same but his hair is damp and unkempt from a shower, I assume, but it still looks perfect- almost better than dry.

"I picked out most this stuff, ya know?" he announces proudly.

"Well, you have good taste but where's Keats?" I ask and jokingly glare at him.

"Oh, that's too special keep in here. I have them in my room in a special spot, Zoe. Come with me, you can have a look." He offers and then grabs my hand to lift me to my feet.

When our skin meet a shiver takes over my body. The most the most attractive man I've ever met is taking me to his room where we'll read one of the greatest romantic poets work and possibly more.

Upon arriving to his room, we read some of the poems from one volume aloud to each other and even interpret what each line means.

After a half an hour I become tired but don't let it show because I feel I'm uncovering the true Kyle- not his butler persona. But the I notice the time and realize it's already one-thirty in the morning. And of course, Kyle adds to my nerves by placing his hand on my bare knee.

"Is everything okay?" he asks while grinning at me.

Looking up from the novel in front of me, I gaze up into his eyes and finally can differentiate between his pupils and irises. The dark pigment is even more beautiful in the harsh light of his room.

"Yeah," I choke out, "I just hadn't realize it was this late."

Laughing at my awareness, he finally lets out a genuine smile, which allows his wonderful dimples to shine. And so I stare at his flawless face, taking it all in, but when I come back to reality I notice him starring back at me.

For the first time since I've known him, Kyle looks as if he's in a trance. And I actually I blink rapidly to make sure I'm not asleep.

Once I confirm this isn't some messed up dream, I rack my brain for something witty to say to snap him out of his reverie.

However, my thoughts are interrupted by his cold, soft lips pressing onto mine. The shock of his sudden movement almost causes me to break apart but as I stare at his closed eyelids I instantly move in sync with him and shutter my eyes.

As the minutes pass, the kiss becomes more passionate with our tongues colliding on the tip. And he pokes around and sucks, I compare this to my first, and only, kiss. With my ex, I never felt a spark or tingle, just him nibbling on my lip or shoving his tongue in my mouth awkwardly.

But with Kyle, I get the entire package. I wouldn't say sparks or even fireworks, but there's definitely something different- almost like an excited shiver, and it runs through my veins and keeps me from running out the room in embarrassment.

As we sit on the ground together, making out, I wonder what his attentions are. But then it becomes clears when he stands up without a word.

Of course, an attractive and sweet guy wouldn't like me. He probably just wanted to see how easy I was.

However, before I can think myself to anger, he extends his hand to me. And being blinded by the mere assumptions in my head, I believe it's my cue to leave. So, needless to say, I'm shocked when his strong grip latches onto my wrist and yanks me back. Then, before I can ask what's going on, he attaches our lips once again but this time he pulls me in so close that our chests are pushed together.

With my legs feelings suddenly weak, I whimper because the combination of his lips and hands on my body is almost too much to handle. Luckily, he takes it a bit easier on me by breaking our connection via lips and instead presses our foreheads together to revel in the sentimental moment.

"You're so beautiful, Zoe," he murmurs so quietly I almost don't catch it.

But the blood rushing to my cheeks lets him know I did hear his compliment, and with the reassurance he swiftly moves his lips to my cold, pale neck where he places several light kisses.

Then he roughens his actions and begins to bite, leaving love bites- evidence that this is indeed happening.

Watching his yellow platinum blonde tresses bounce as he inches to my collarbone, I feel my nerves spark. And when he finally nibbles and kisses in the dip, my body actually goes limp in his arms.

Just as I think I can't handle any more, he tugs on my t-shirt to reveal my breasts. And as he creeps toward it I feel my palms become clammy in anticipation. Would he be like my ex, rough and not very good or a sex god? However, I just settle with somewhere in the middle.

Needless to say when he gently sucks in the rosy nipple into his mouth, I'm shocked at how he moves. He isn't biting too hard but he also adds enough pressure so I can feel a slickness form between my shaking legs. Next, he traces his finger around my petal-like nub and rolls it with his fingers, causing a heat to flow throughout me and end at my pussy.

Eventually, he removes himself, which seems difficult for him, and glances at my face to notice my bright rose cheeks.

So he places a finger under my chin and lifts my head up slightly to slowly kiss me. And this time it's much slower, tender even. So as we move our lips together, closed mouth, I wonder where he wants to take this.

Unfortunately, I'm not very experienced in the sexual department, but I believe I know enough to get me through a hook up. However, Kyle seems to be very educated and, hopefully, willing to teach me.

Then, suddenly, he walks us to the bed and and lays me down. But, to my dismay, he removes the connection of our lips. Instead, he removes my shirt and then stares at my bare torso while allowing a wide smile to take over his face.

As I awkwardly squirm and giggle as I notice my newly swollen nipples, he chortles at my almost virgin like attitude. But, before he returning to my lips, Kyle admires, more like studies, my upper body under the harsh light. Yet, he still mumbles, "So beautiful," despite the scar from where my belly ring once was (a stupid sixteen year old desire) and the tiny stretch marks on the sides of my breast from growing so rapidly.

His gaping causes a scarlet blush to rule my cheeks and a smile to form on my lips.

This time, Kyle isn't so patient because he immediately attaches one hand to the swell of my cold breast and massages it as we tongue kiss. And in hopes of getting far with him, I snake my hand to crotch but gasp when I feel how erect he is, almost bursting the jeans.

While continuing to rub circles on his bulge, I try to swiftly unbutton his pants but of course I was never graceful. So he quickly unbuttons and unzips his sweat pants before allowing them to pool at his ankles. After minutes of kneading through clothes, I notice Kyle rummaging through his sweats for something so I open my eyes.

Just as I suspected, he was looking for a condom, which he dropped behind me.

"Looking for this?" I ask with a smirk while holding up a small, shiny square.

He nods his head before ripping it from my grip and desperately tearing it open to roll it down his rock-hard dick. The sight of his throbbing, veiny cock causes my middle to dampen to the point it may stain his sheets.

Then, in one rapid movement, he removes my shorts and underwear together, tossing them across his bedroom.

And as he positions himself to enter, he leans down to my face and asks, "Do you want to?" Of course, I nod my head but also let out a very muffled yes. Before penetrating me, Kyle looks deep into my eyes and presses his warm lips onto mine.

When the tip pushes through I shriek at the force of my walls to expand but the pain soon dissipates and is replaces with a warm feeling of being full. As he continues to force his enormous length into me, I hear him murmur, "So tight."

Finally, when the entire cock is inside, he gives me a moment to adjust before quickly thrusts. And with each pump he stutters some plea or my name, so I dg my nails into his bare back and keep my face buried into his neck so I don't shout- thus waking Fiona.

Being so inexperienced, it's not a surprise that only five minutes in, I feel a knot form in my lower abdomen. From past occurrences, I know this means I'm only seconds from releasing, which almost embarrasses me because it seems like Kyle could go on for hours.

But none of that matters when, suddenly, the Earth seems to stop spinning as an intense sensation flows throughout every inch of my body. And a splintering moan escapes my throat as I orgasm around his pulsing dick.

He must be feeling my contract around him because he kisses my lips and whispers, "Cum for me, Zoe."

The final bolt of pleasure pumps through my body as my high comes to an end, but luckily, I feel Kyle twitch inside me and he begins to bite my neck. Somehow, I know he's finishing, mainly because his thrusts are becoming sloppy and his words are barely audible between sucks of my nape.

When he rolls off me, we lay together for a while in silence, which allows horrible thoughts to cross my mind like: _he only wanted you for sex_ or _he only likes you because you're the only one around_.

So when I stand up to leave, normal procedure after a one night stand I suppose, I'm actually flabbergasted when he pulls me back onto the mattress.

"You're not going anywhere, Zoe," he insists with a slight grin across his face.

"You're mine now," he announces and then kisses my nose. So, being the obedient girl I am, I nuzzle back into bed and allow his strong arms to wrap around me, slowly rocking me to sleep.

I guess I won't miss my mother much after all.


	9. Mystery Text

"Another night alone," Violet mumbles to herself as she heard the front door shut.

Violet has been extremely down since her best friend moved across the country for college.

Sad isn't- Violet is one of the only people she knows who's attending the shitty community college. And normally she wouldn't give a shit about any of that, but the image one is given when being educated at the cheap school is too bad not to care.

Everyone, including Violet, knows that she could've done better. She could've went to USC or even Harvard, but she slacked in high school- just didn't give an ounce of effort. So instead she's stuck attending the Los Angeles Community College, and so far it sucks.

However, she's pushing through in hopes of a better GPA to transfer to UCLA or something better.

Despite how much she truly hated high school, she decided to pursue a degree to become an art teacher because she knows the chance at becoming rich off her sketches and paintings are slim-to-none, so rather than take a huge chance Violet is settling with the boring 9-to-5 job her parents insist she go for.

To make matters worse, she has to live at home since community colleges don't have dorms and she's too broke to afford an apartment. So here she is sitting in her bed curled up with a large cup of chamomile tea and her laptop searching for a new indie movie to stream.

And with her phone by her side she waits for a call, a text, from her closest friend who should be settling back into her dorm in Brooklyn by now. But to her dismay her notifications are empty and her phone is silent.

No one seems to care about Violet Harmon on this beautiful Saturday evening, not even her parents who are out on a two-day cruise.

But Violet decides not to care; after all she's been mostly independent for eighteen years- one more night of solitary won't destroy her. She'll just do what she always does when the house is empty: pull up her favorite erotica read, passion in the grave, grab her small vibrator, and slip her tiny hand down the waist band of her leggings.

But before she can click the link to the website of the novel she's dying to read for the hundredth time, her phone buzzes on the wooden nightstand next to her bed. And being startled by the sudden notification, she jumps, nearly knocking her laptop off her mattress, and lunches for her cell.

Expecting it to be her dear friend Jamie, she unlocks her phone without looking and types a response of 'how was your flight? how's Brooklyn?! I miss you already' but then she realizes it's not Jamie, not even someone she knows.

The bright screen displays a number that isn't saved on her phone and she doesn't recognize. However, she almost laughs aloud when she reads the text: _mom please come do my laundry tomorrow. can't figure out how to work the washing machine._

Either this is a pathetic prank or a hilarious mis-text from some newly independent child who's failing miserably at the adult life.

So as she wonders who this mystery person could be, she conjures a witty response back, because, of course, Violet isn't simple enough to respond with 'you have the wrong number.' No, she's got to mess with the person, get a good laugh out of it. After all, he or she did interrupt a sacred ritual.

 _sure, honey. should mama also bring you a few meals for you to heat up? maybe change your diaper while I'm there?_

When she hits send, Violet bursts into hysterics. How could this person be so dumb as to not to notice that the number is off? What kind of person doesn't save their mother's number anyways?

So, as Violet awaits a response she becomes anxious. What if the person is psycho? What if he or she kills me? Is it a female or male? Is he hot? Do I know him? How old is he? Why is he texting his mom at ten p.m. on a Saturday?

However, the long buzz of her phone rips her from her thoughts and begs for her attention. Of course, she practically breaks her phone trying to unlock it, and when she finally reads over the reply she nearly cries of laughter.

 _oh shit I have the wrong number. my bad. but hey you still wanna bring me food?_

Appalled by the moron's retort, she almost sends the mystery person a picture of her middle finger, but she's too into this to stop now. So instead she digs to find out whom she's dealing with.

 _who am I cooking for?_

Her question is short but to the point- like her. She wants to know whom this person is behind the phone and if they're willing to talk all night because, quite frankly, this is the most exciting thing that's happened to her all week.

 _a very hungry man._

So it is a male, she thinks aloud. Immediately more questions flood her mind like: is he cute? does he have a crush on me? is he old? is he young? is he in college?

But of course she doesn't want to come off as desperate or even creepy so she plays the nonchalant act.

 _that's unfortunate because I'm also hungry_

The moment she hits send, and hears the nearly silent swoosh that indicates the iMessage was sent, she regrets it. That's all she could come up with- a lame, half-ass flirt at best.

However, her mystery man doesn't seem to care because less than a minute later he responds.

 _hungry girl I hope_

After reading his words for the fifth time she tries not to squeal. What's wrong with her? Violet was never one to swoon over guys or spend useless hours imagining life with one, but now by the random text of a stranger, whose face she's never seen, she's practically a slave to her iPhone.

 _you guessed it ;)_

Waiting for a reply seems to be the worst punishment Violet can think of at the moment because the during minute it takes her hungry man to responds she feels like she's going crazy. She needs to know more about him.

 _does my hungry girl have a name? maybe I could help you out with your starvation_

Grinning at his flirty response, Violet almost sends a flirty text back until she realizes how easy she's being. So she revises it to her usual standards.

v _iolet- and I don't think mama's boy can satisfy my hunger._

"God that was sexual," she mutters and hopes, prays, he doesn't take it the wrong way. After all, she isn't in the mood to sext a complete stranger and definitely not going to give the possible creep a ring.

So as she patiently waits for his message she wonders what he looks like. Probably some jock who's looking for a picture of her tits or a quick video of her touching herself.

Well that certainly won't happy, no matter how convincing he could be.

Checking her phone for the _n_ th time in the past few minutes she pouts at the sight of no text.

So at the assumption that he either knows her and isn't interested in further conversation or just doesn't care anymore, she returns to her erotica and is more than ready for a self-orgasm, which is way better than any her ex, if he even deserves that title, had given her.

Once she reads the first lines in her head, she slips her freezing hand into her leggings and runs her fingers around her already damp clit.

Thoughts of the mystery man invades her mind while she swooshes her fingers in he juices.

Maybe this man is the king of going down or perhaps his cock is huge- something Violet's been craving for so long.

With her eyes closed she reaches for her vibrator but a buzz on wood forces her eyelids open.

To her surprise he had responded- finally!

 _sorry violet I had to figure out my laundry- anyways I could definitely help to out ;)_

This time she lets out a shriek and clutches her phone while smiling like an idiot.

Get it together Violet! It's just a dumb college boy, hopefully that young, she shouts in her head.

So as she thinks of what to type she wonders what his name could be: Ryan, Dominick, Paul, or maybe Jake.

Yeah, she likes Jake.

 _well I don't know your name or any of your cooking abilities so I can't trust you easily_

By now they both know what they each really mean, but neither will admit that the hunger they're trying to satisfy is their sexual desires.

Luckily, _**Jake**_ answers right away, which, of course, earns a silly smile from Violet.

 _my name's a mystery. but I promise I'm the best chef you'll ever encounter- though I don't have much experience cooking, I do know how to please a girls appetite violet_

By now Violet's panties are soaking and clit is throbbing. She hasn't been this horny in a while.

 _I'll be the judge of that_

And with the click of the send button, she slides her hand back into her underwear while waiting. So she shutters her eyes and imagines his hand on her- his warm, wet mouth sucking on her rosy peak and licking up all her juices that are flowing just for him.

She imagines his eyes, whatever color they may be, staring up at her intensely as he shoves two fingers inside.

But her fantasy is interrupted once again by the noise of her phone.

 _when?_

The one word response that took no effort is now causing Violet to sweat. Does he really want to meet her? Is this man real? How old is he? Is he dangerous?

However, all her concerns disappear when she pictures his head between her legs.

 _whenever you want_

No matter how badly she wants to see him, she won't be the one to initiate the date.

 _now_

He replies instantly, just as on edge as she is. And, of course, picturing the same as Violet. Only he has an actual image of her. The picture of a seemingly innocent girl in his Chemistry class- or he hopes it's that Violet.

Either way he'll be thinking of her the whole night.

 _where?_

Now she becomes nervous. It's extremely dangerous to meet a guy, who somehow texted me by mistake, at eleven p.m. in LA. But Violet isn't afraid of anything, so why not?

 _tom n toms in koreatown_

Suddenly Violet becomes scared. How does he know she lives in LA?

 _idk how safe it is to meet a stranger at this hour_

 _S_ he types but before hitting send she erases it all.

 _okay_

She's going to be fearless but smart. So she packs her purse with a small knife, pepper spray, and some gum- just incase.

 _be there in 20_

 _ **Jake**_ 's response makes her giddy again as she applies mascara to her dull face. She wishes there was enough time for a shower but alas she's rushing already. So she slips into her ripped skinny jeans, a Pearl Jam t-shirt, and dirty, white converse before spritzing herself with some perfume her mother bought her for her birthday a few years back.

And on her way out she checks herself out in the mirror by the front door and hopes this guy isn't a creep.

* * *

 _where are you_

Violet sends the message after debating for five minutes. She's been waiting at the coffee shop for nearly fifteen minutes, and the mystery guy, whose name she still hadn't gotten, did text her when he left his house.

Either he's lost or coming from East Bumblefuck.

So instead of feeling lonely and pathetic, Violet orders a coffee- black and large.

Upon taking a sip of the steaming beverage she's taken back do the first time she tasted the bitter drink.

Ninth grade, when she was just beginning to explore the wonders of depression and solitude, she sulked to a nearby coffee shop after school to wait until her father would leave for his weekly night class. That was the only time she could get some peace. And since she was bored with her usual hang out spot, the library, she ventured.

The second she stumbled the quaint store, she was awestruck by all the choices, but, as suspected, she chose the classic- cappuccino.

Eventually she worked her way up to a black coffee, no sugar, but now she's in the mood for something sweet- and maybe it's the boy she's terrified to meet or her loneliness taking over but she almost orders a peppermint-mocha-double-pump-whatever until the sound of a cough yanks her attention.

"Violet?" A young, and attractive, man asks, standing before her.

Instantly she recognizes the guy from her Chem class and recalls how she almost went up to him after class a week ago but chickened out at the thought of being shot down and having to face him for four more agonizing months.

"Hey," she trails off realizing she never got his name. "Funny seeing you here," she adds to seem friendlier. It's odd that he would even say hello since they've only spoke a few times about the assignments.

"It's me- Tate," he responds with his brows raised, still awkwardly standing before her, refusing to sit until offered.

"From the texts," he adds. And Violet nearly chokes on her coffee.

The mysterious man that's been texting her is the hot guy in her science class that she's had her eye on since the moment he walked through the double doors.

"Oh! H-hey!" It's obvious that she's nervous, on edge, at the fact that she actually knows the random texter. And more importantly that she's attracted to him.

But he doesn't appear to be surprised or even interested. In fact, she would say he looks bored.

"Uh have a seat," she finally manages muster. His lack of enthusiasm is discouraging.

However once he takes a sip of his latte his world seems to bright.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "I'm so tired so I needed this. Anyways, I'm sorry about being late. It took me a while to gather my balls and come say hello to the beautiful girl."

Violet immediately becomes relieved knowing that his attitude isn't because of her looks. But when the words beautiful girl fall off his lips, she nearly loses control.

He's the sweetest boy she's ever met and they've only been introduced a few minutes ago. It's a miracle, to say the least, that he found his ultimate crush by mistake.

But right now Violet is too busy memorizing every inch of his face to even care.

The first thing she remembers noticing is his hair- the golden, platinum blonde tresses, which slightly cover his eyes, nearly killing Violet with their cuteness.

But now that she's close to his face she can appreciate his onyx abyss of eyes that seem to have no differentiation between the iris and pupil. It's almost like staring into a black hole- if you get sucked in you'll never know what'll happen.

Next her whiskey colored eyes take on his strawberry tinted lips that are just the right size- not too small and not enormous. She also notices that the second her eyes scan over his mouth he darts his tongue to moisten the somewhat dry skin. And now Violet hopes she'll encounter that tongue once more tonight.

"So still hungry?" Tate asks, slightly nervous since Violet hadn't said more than a few words to him.

In truth, Violet is starving but she knows if she lets him take her out to eat that a burger won't be the only thing inside her mouth by the end of the night.

"Not really," she answers hesitantly. Since she hardly knows the man she can't be too careless.

"Oh come on, I don't bite." He retorts before spotting her shirt.

"I've always noted that you have really good taste in music." The confused look on Violet's face almost sends Tate into hysterics but he calmly clarifies. "Your band tees."

Relief washes over Violet as she realizes he wasn't Facebook stalking her or anything of the sort, but simply taking an extra glance at her during class.

"Thanks. What do you listen to?"

"Pretty much same as you- Morrissey, Love Battery, Nirvana, The Pixies, Alice In Chains, Smashing Pumpkins, Melvins, Veruca Salt. The classic ya know?"

Violet is shocked that the strange kid in the back of class likes all the bands she does- in fact now that she looks at his shirt, he's wearing a something with Nirvana etched into it- not like those typical teenage girl wanna-be-grunge t-shirts, but an actual vintage one.

Violet hopes that one day she'll get to steal it from him, but that's thinking a bit further ahead than she'd like.

"Where were you thinking of eating?" She finally asks with a grin spread across her pale face.

* * *

"This is my new apartment- just moved in about three days ago. I'm totally clueless but my mother insisted I leave the house after graduation."

Violet admires his home and wonders how he convinced her to come, but it is in the nice neighborhood and she does have her mace in her pocket.

"Cocksucker," Tate adds under his breath, just loud enough for Violet to catch it and smirk.

"This is nice- but seriously how could you not know how to work the washing machine? It's so simple," she jokes and stares up at him with a grin.

"I guess I just need a woman's touch," he coaxes while moving his hand up Violet's arm.

The first time their skin came into contact, on the ride here, she nearly squealed.

All Violet's nerves went berserk and her skin turned hot. A boy has never provoked such s reaction from her before and now that she knows what he can do, she never wants to leave his embrace.

But of course, he slid his hand away when he parked in the driveway, exiting the car to open her door.

Now, with his fingers crawling up her bicep, she knows what she wants and she wants it now. But since Violet is feeling shy, she only drops hints.

"So, still think you can feed my appetite?" The boldness in Violet is taking over and becoming much more persistent. It's even surprising herself.

Tate's attention is forced onto Violet, specifically her body. In class she wouldn't necessarily dress her best, although he still believes she looks great, but tonight, in her tight t-shirt and hole-y jeans, she looks sexy.

Not in the way most men would picture but to Tate she is the most attractive woman in the entire world. Whether it is her silken, honey-brown locks that fall just under her perky breasts or the light caramel eyes that twinkle with at smallest amount of illumination. But his favorite feature is her cherry stained lips that form the perfect pout with a tiny, barely noticeable, dimple on each side and an adorable little mole on the left side of her lip.

"Tate?" Violet calls, dragging him from his thoughts of her.

"Y-yeah, I definitely can. I just have to know what you're hungry for."

The punch in each of his words is sent straight to Violet's middle where she feels her panties become so damp that they may slip off.

"Whatever you'll give," Violet barely manages to let out. Her voice is so low she actually thinks he may not have heard her.

But the sudden closing of the space between them assures her he has and definitely understands her desire. As Tate leans in closer to Violet's soft lips, she takes in his musk and sweat scent and admires how it seems to be uniquely his.

The second their lips connect a tingle runs through each of their bodies and Violet takes note how Tate's lips feel against hers: euphoric.

His mouth tastes of mint and cherry, from gum and Chapstick she assumes. But all thoughts are shoved to the back of her mind when he pokes his tongue at her bottom lip. And of course she lets him in so their tongues can collide and mingle until they're sore.

However, that doesn't seem to be happening soon because as they make out, Tate runs his hand up her back until he reaches her neck and then slides his fingers down her cold arm until he stops at her abdomen.

Violet soaks in every move he makes as he inches toward her breasts. And she will admit that things are taking off a bit too fast for her liking but tonight she doesn't care- after all she is trying to have the college experience.

Hooking up with hot classmate- check.

Eventually, Tate pulls away, leaving her lips swollen and aching for more, but he quickly reattaches his mouth onto her pasty neck. And with each red mark he leaves on her, she wonders how someone could make her feel so pleasured.

But then Tate takes it to the next level by massaging her chest, taking time feeling each breast and giving them the deserved attention. By then Violet is moaning, biting her lip until it becomes bloody, and clawing at his back.

Tate knows she's soaking wet and Violet is positive his cock is hard but neither of them explore that area quite yet in fear of going over the other's limit. But when Violet backs up to lift her shirt over her head, Tate gets the feeling that there aren't many bounds that Violet won't break tonight.

When the thud of her shirt hitting the floor rings through Tate's ears, he studies her topless body. Her black bra accentuates her B-cups and contrasts perfectly with her milky skin.

The way her hips curve has him in a trance of her womanly features. Tate's never laid eyes upon a creature so delicate, so innocent- so perfect.

So of course, he has to explore, and immediately he pulls her close so he can run his hands up her nearly bare body. And just as he imagined, her skin is silky smooth- until he reaches her arms.

Before even gazing upon them, Tate feels many small bumps around her wrist and eventually realizes they're scars. So, he flips her forearm to palm up and studies the blush, nearly white, lines that mark her arms. And instantly, he feels her tense up at his touch. He must be the first person to ever see them like this.

But instead of allowing her to slip her hand away, he pulls her hand close and kisses each scar.

Violet, being mortified and perplexed, stares down at him with tears in her eyes. She's never felt so vulnerable, but also so beautiful. Tate doesn't care about her past- he only wants her future.

So when the ordeal is over, Tate moves his lips up her arm, to her shoulder, and eventually stops above her breasts. And again he admires the mounds before him, wondering what her nipples look like.

So, with out having patience any longer, he lifts her body up and fumbles with her bra. Eventually, Violet steps in and unhooks the contraption with ease, making Tate giggle and Violet to chuckle at his innocence.

But when the black bra hits the ground, the entire mood changes. Now there's no turning back- not that either are even dreaming of it.

Tate's eyes are glued to Violet's perky breasts that stare before him, lying perfectly in two small hills. He grins at the sight of her small, rosy nubs that are hardening as each second of being exposed continue. And after a few more moments he cannot resist the urge to suck on one, so Tate quickly dips his head onto one of her breasts and suckles one erect, pink nub into his warm mouth.

The second Violet feels his tongue circle the petal-like sprout, she moans. No boy has ever caressed her, touched her, or loved her like Tate is right now, and it's electrifying. Her entire body jolts at the sensation of his fingertips grazing her skin, so the pleasure she's receiving from his mouth is indescribable.

After minutes of switching between the perfect peaks, Tate slithers his hand to the waistband of her jeans, and tugs at the button until it undoes itself.

By now Violet is certain that her juices have burned through her underwear and working on her jeans, but she doesn't care because Tate will be taking care of her shortly.

However, she didn't think it would happen so quickly, because when he removes her panties and jeans in one swift tug, she almost feels embarrassed, but composes herself when she realizes it's Tate- the man who kissed every single one of her scars minutes earlier.

Before he inserts a thick finger inside her, Violet yanks him back to her lips so that she can maximize the intensity. And then, he runs his pointer up her slit; soaking all the natural lubrication he can, making Violet shake in anticipation.

But she really lets everything go when he thrusts the finger deep inside her. Her moans and yelps fill the small apartment and probably disturb the neighbors, but as teenagers neither seem to care.

As if it couldn't get better for her, he applies pressure to her clitoris with his thumb and rubs circles around it- driving her absolutely crazy.

Minutes later, when she's on the verge of releasing, Tate suddenly stops and removes his lips from Violet's.

Being a bit upset and bewildered, Violet tilts her head and wonders why he ceased.

"I want to try something new- if you're down for it?" Tate asks with a slight pout.

"Uh, sure," Violet answers warily, dragging out each word. What could he possibly be planning?

But before she can process anything, Tate is tugging at his jeans and ripping the t-shirt that covered his, newly noticed, defined chest. Within seconds he's naked, raging boner and all.

"I want to sixty-nine," he states, as if it's the most common thing- like French kissing.

But, being one for new things, Violet agrees. However, she has no clue what to do or how to set it up. Luckily, Tate seems to have an understanding and lies down while extending his hand to her for guidance. "Just crawl on top of me and put your pussy above my face."

When the words leave his mouth, she feels her middle slick once more and become ready for him.

Truthfully, she's never been given cunnilingus and is eager to find out what the hype is about. So when she lowers herself onto him, grabbing the shaft of his bulging cock, she takes a deep breath as Tate's hands grasp the sides of her butt.

When his tongue hits her clit she almost screams but his length in her mouth muffles any words.

So as she bobs her head up and down his throbbing erection, paying extra attention to the swollen head, she soaks in the pleasure of his mouth sucking on her southern peak and fingers pumping fiercely into her heat. Violet even begins rocking with his movements and almost bounces on his face.

But when she feels herself nearing orgasm she speeds up her actions on Tate and even uses her hand.

Finally, a small spark ignites within her, starting from her core and then shooting all around her body. Violet's limbs spasm and her walls contract around three of Tate's fingers while she actually rides his face.

Meanwhile, the combined sight of Violet cumming and her mouth filled with his dick, he erupts. Her tiny hands are the perfect size to rub him exactly how he craves and her mouth seems endless no matter how hard he thrusts upward.

And as he licks the remains of her juices, he hears a gulp from her mouth and almost ejaculates again at the thought of his semen sliding down her throat.

Eventually, Violet rolls off him and into his arms where the two lie gazing at his dirty ceiling that hasn't been noticed until now.

Few minutes of silence later, Violet turns to face him. "So do we have a quiz Monday?"

Tate bursts into a long chuckle and nods his head.

Needless to say, this is going to be the best semester of their lives.


	10. A Little Bud Never Hurt Nobody

Ever since Violet made the costly move from Los Angeles to Manhattan she's had to work to pay for her rent. But a few months ago she lost her high-paying desk job and had been doing what her ex-boyfriend had exposed her to ever since: the art of drug dealing.

Sure as a little girl Violet never imagined selling weed to randoms in the Upper East Side in order to pay to for her unnecessarily expensive studio apartment would be her life, but she's not complaining. Lucky for her, most of the people she deals to are just rich snobs who trust her merely because she's a girl. And that's just fine, but she also knows how to protect herself and her merchandise (with a handgun and a few years of karate as a kid).

But one of her most memorable clients, as she likes to call them, is a young man who has been buying from her almost as long as she's been jobless, which is coming on seven months. And, from what little she knows about him, she's intrigued. She guesses he's in his mid-to-late twenties and, by lack of a ring, single. Also, he's attractive.

Actually, that's an understatement. Violet practically begs him to fuck her with her eyes each time he picks up from her. But alas, she has a no boyfriend during college, as well as no dating customers, policy that's been strictly enforced throughout her time a NYU. And she's not exactly the type to go for one-night stands.

So, instead, she counts the days- hours - until Tate, his name she soon learned after his second visit, shows up at the coffee shops two blocks from her home to "pick her up".

But it's more like a small walk to exchange goods without tipping others off. And on their short stroll, she only allows herself one question: how are you?

Each week it's the same, 'good and you', response. However, a few times he's given detailed answers about his stressful day or great weekend, but mostly it's the bland reply.

But her absolute favorite time of the entire week is during the ten seconds that Tate pulls her into a hug, which is another decoy but has actually become a habit. The first time it happened, on the sixth arrangement after their first meeting, Violet nearly squealed. Luckily she contained herself and now, months later, but still feels a chill run down her spine and a smile spread across her face each time they collide.

And of course, she knows the feeling must be somewhat mutual because she's caught him checking her out more times than not, and he actually brushed his hand over her butt, purposefully she hopes, and didn't pull away.

But who would want to date a young, and clearly fucked up, drug dealer when he could easily snag a beautiful heiress to daddy's fortune or a model.

However, Violet doesn't know how wrong she is because Tate feels more like her than she could imagine.

He even remembers the moment he laid eyes on her, and, not to be cliché, his stomach actually fluttered. He genuinely thought his insides were doing flips and crazy tricks to let him know she's gorgeous. But he didn't need any feeling or sign to know- it was obvious just by the way he couldn't move forward without his palms becoming clammy as ever.

To resist the urge to ask her on a date was the hardest thing he's ever done- and Tate has participated in the Polar Bear Plunge. But before he could even gather the courage to ask, or beg if it came down to it, the amazing woman in front of him to accompany him to a play or something extraordinary, he came to his senses.

Of course the hot drug dealer must have a tough, gangster even, boyfriend who provides the drugs and watches her closely.

So, to stay out of trouble, he backed off for good and decided that either way, this girl is probably trouble. For all he knows she skimps him.

But no matter what, he's loyal to her because not only is she the most alluring woman he's met, and he's encounter plenty of females since he's met her, but she also has the dankest stuff in town.

But even Tate wonders why after all these years his still uses marijuana. Yet he soon remembers that it's because his job is the most stressful and he earns an entire afternoon a week to sit in his loft and smoke until he passes out.

And during his usage he always thinks of Violet and wishes he had the nerve to invite her to smoke with him. He would kill to experience her while high. In fact, he knows it'd be the most incredible moment of his entire life. Her skin, so pale and delicate, would feel like satin against his rough fingers. And he's decided she tastes like honey- sweet and natural.

But Tate forces the thoughts away because they'll only lead to disappointment when he realizes she's not there and never will be.

So instead he visualizes the hug they share at the end of their time. Oh how he desires to lift her chin and kiss her pouty, cherry-stained lips each time the touch.

But this month is different, the two promise. It's January and they've each made a pact to get over one another and find a significant other.

However, Violet makes the thought to be after finals since this is her last semester and, hopefully, she will be graduating in May.

Unfortunately, she's only left with the random, boring electives, with the exception of her final radiography class.

So after she's made her schedule, and checked RateMyProfessor for reviews on each instructor, she wonders why Advanced Camping is a class and why she signed up for it. But she's sort of excited for a literature course focusing on dead poets that she's scheduled for.

So, on the first day, it isn't a surprise that Violet arrives early to the English lecture and picked the perfect seat in the back.

And since there's thirty minutes until the professor is supposed to arrive, she plugs her headphones in and blasts the Sex Pistols.

However, she doesn't realize how long she's been in her own world because the flicker of the lights is the only thing to awaken her from the daze.

"Good morning students, I'm professor Langdon and this is Midcentury Poetry. I'll pass the sign in sheet around but it'll normally be at the front."

Instantly, Violet knows the voice is familiar but she can't see the face of her teacher well enough to understand who he is.

However, from the moment he scans the crowd, Tate recognizes Violet. How could he not spot the blonde with baggy, distressed clothes and the most adorable smile he's ever seen in a sea of girls in skin-tight pants and frowns and a few men practically asleep on their backpacks?

During the lesson Violet can't focus on a word the professor was speaking because she is studying his face. And half way through it she comes to the conclusion that it is indeed the cute, and apparently not so young, man she encounters every Tuesday for a quick exchange.

Naturally, Violet decides to not confront him because she's more of the let it go kind of girl. And Tate would normally say the same about himself but he really loves her weed and needs to clear things up.

And Violet thought she had gone unnoticed in the room since it is rather large, but to her disappointment Tate spotted her almost instantly and has himself set on a word with her.

How could she be so young, he wonders as he formulates what to say. But when he notices she's nearly out the door, he shouts her name, which causes her entire body to turn scarlet red and heart pound uncontrollably in her chest.

So it is really him, she almost mumbles aloud. What could he possibly say to make the situation less awkward? It's not like Violet plans on ratting him out; after all, she is the source of his drugs.

"Violet!" He calls out once more with his hand raised and messenger bag clutched under his other arm.

She concludes running won't work and that the least uncomfortable thing to do would be staying since she'll have to face in sometime.

So as he inches closer, tearing through the small crowd formed at the door, she wonders what he'll say and also what he looks like without the dress shirt and tie.

"Can we talk in private? Do you have class?"

The shock of their first real conversation in weeks almost sends her into a coma, but she instead gathers herself and clears her throat before responding.

"I'm free until two-thirty," she utters so quietly Tate barely hears it.

But he does. So he grabs her hand, sending an electric-like jolt of nerves up their arms, and leads her to his office.

Once inside, after the three-minute walk hand-in-hand, he looks- stares- at Violet and admires her bold sense of style. The way her loose cardigan flows down her body and covers her butt, not allowing a peek at the glorious muscle, and how her purple leggings hug her hips that one can only appreciate when she faces forward and her perfectly filled out breasts slightly spill from her grey tank top.

He's never laid eyes on a carefree outfit such as hers and never noticed her unique wardrobe until today (perhaps since he's been focused on her whiskey colored eyes and silken, honey hair for the past six months).

But he soon snaps out of his daze and realizes what has to be done.

"Violet," Tate begins.

Instantly, she fears for the worst. He could sell her out to the cops or worse, not buy from her again. And she absolutely needs the money, but she craves the time together. With out it, she'd go through the most terrible kind of withdrawal that could only be fixed by a series of regrettable events.

"I know this is... awkward- to say the least, but I want you to know I have a reason. I...I smoke because the stress level of this job is almost unbearable. I'm sure you don't find that a reasonable excuse but if you'd-"

"Professor?" Violet shyly interrupts Tate from his rambling.

And immediately he looks up from his fumbling feet and straight into her soul penetrating eyes.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. After all, I am your drug dealer. It's not like I'm in any position to judge you."

And as soon as the last word glides off her tongue, he has a realization.

She's right. They're both at each other's mercy. He can't expose her without possibly unveiling himself and vice versa. Besides why would a drug dealer rat out her teacher? They are friends...well, sort of.

"Anyways, I'm not a nark. Your secret is safe with me... Professor." Violet finishes her statement with an eyebrow raise and an intense stare into the depth of his irises.

Tate has never been exposed to this side of her but he is indeed enjoying it. The mysterious act was more than enough to intrigue him but the suddenly bad-girl notion has him wrapped around her finger.

But still he decides to take precaution because his job is most important in his life.

"Thank you Violet, but I'm afraid our weekly meetings will have to stop. It's just not appropriate."

The words she knew were coming stung worse than she thought. Of course, Violet figured they'd stop interacting one day but she didn't plan for it those soon and under this circumstance. It's not fair. She hardly knows the guy and a stupid class she doesn't even have to take stomps on their possible future!

"B-but, I promise I won't say anything. In fact, this could be better! I... I could meet you somewhere for tutoring and then we could exchange and-and."

Violet stops herself before looking more pathetic. She even finds herself on the verge of tears.

But at least to Tate it looks like desperation for money, not for his touch.

"Violet..." is all he lets out. Tate wants to give in so bad. He doesn't want to give up the weekly hug. In fact, he wants to hug her right now. She looks so stressed sitting in the leather chair before him with glassy eyes and shaky hands.

He can't deny her of business, right? After all, she has been good to him since he started buying from her.

"If we do this, if we actually continue this, we have to promise no one can know. Not a single soul or I'll be jobless and you'll be in prison. We have to continue like a student and professor would. Understood?"

The sternness in his voice could spook anyone else, but Violet is too happy to be intimidated. The love of her life, or realistically her huge crush but violet's mind over exaggerates greatly, is willing to continue their secret meetings.

. . .

The past four weeks have been almost normal for Violet with the exception of more time spent with Tate, or Professor Langdon as he's formally called.

The two have continued the weekly meet up but unfortunately the hugs have ceased. She guesses it'll give the two a bad image, which Violet agrees with but still wishes he would wrap his arms around her once more.

However, they have been getting closer because they spend more time together to make the tutoring believable.

Some discussions were focused on the lecture but most were about the drug and how to amplify the high.

But today Tate decides to test the waters by asking personal questions.

So when Violet arrives to their corner of the library Tate straightens his back and glances at her outfit. The first piece he notices is the shaggy mustard cardigan that's draped over her, two sizes too big. He recalls owning a piece like that a few years ago. But when he directs his eyes under the jacket, he notices a yellow and brown floral dress that accentuates her breasts and hips so well that he can almost envision what they look like bare.

But perhaps his favorite part is the grey tights stuck to her legs. He adores how trendsetting she is. Most girls wouldn't wear that many layers with fear that they won't be able to show off their body, but Violet clearly does not give a fuck.

"Hey," she says in a breathy tone as she slides into a chair.

"Hello," Tate responses while wiping the sweat from his palms on his pants.

"Here's my paper." She slides a folder containing her assignment as well as the marijuana.

"Thank you," he answers but is more focused on the way her hair falls over her shoulders so delicately and forms small waves towards the end.

"Um, Violet, may I ask you a personal question?"

The bombshell nearly sends her into a choking fit. The hot professor wants to know more about her?

So, because she can't form words at the moment, Violet nods her head slowly and continually until he lets out a smile.

"How old are you?" Tate, expecting a terrifying answer of eighteen, cringes.

"Twenty-three in a week," she announces, causing a wide grin to spread across Tate's face.

"What about you?" Violet asks, curious to how old her crush is.

"That's not how the game works!" He answers.

"Game?" Violet mutters confused.

"Oh you want to play that question game. Fine. You're on!" She whisper-shouts.

"Why did you buy from me?"

Her question is simple, easy to answer, but embarrassing to admit. Should he really tell her the honest truth that will give away his feelings so easily?

"Well, you know my friend Troy bought from you at the time and well, when I found out you were a girl I wanted to know more about you. So-"

"You Internet stalked me!" She bursts out and then quietly laughs.

"Very funny. Yes I looked into you. But I couldn't not meet you because, well, you're just so damn cute, Violet."

After the last words leave his mouth he regrets it.

 _Cute?_ That's what a dog is called while dragging its crotch across a carpet or a baby when it gnaws on a finger. Not what the most attractive woman he's ever met should be deemed.

But he didn't want to overwhelm her so cute will do, for now.

The silence is broken when she rolls her eyes and lets out a nose laugh.

But Tate decides to move on and ask another question.

"Do you have a pimp or something- for the mary jane?"

The bluntness of his question, and the silly code word for marijuana, causes Violet to choke on the water she just sipped into her mouth.

"No," she blandly responds. As if she constantly is asked this.

"How old are you?" She asks with an eyebrow arched. She's hoping not older than thirty-two, but at this point she doesn't care. He's into her and she's into him. Now, it's just a waiting game to see who makes the first move.

"Twenty-nine."

Violet stares at his lips the entire time, watching how each syllable gracefully rolls off the plump muscles.

"Shit. Violet, I left my wallet in the office. Care to join me?" He asks while standing up suddenly.

Violet doesn't want the money yet because then she'll have to leave and count the minutes until next Tuesday. But she walks with him anyways because maybe he'll hug her in his office.

The stroll is quiet but not uncomfortable. They both are dissecting the earlier conversation but neither wants to talk about it.

So, when Tate unlocks his office and insists Violet to walk in before him, ladies first, of course, he thinks of a question that's just itching to be let out.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

It's not as controlled as he hoped but it's too late so he's standing his ground.

"Excuse me?" Violet retorts, so shocked by his undue question.

"We're still playing the question game, aren't we?" His answer is coy and almost rude, but Violet likes sass.

"No boyfriend," she murmurs, embarrassed that she's not two steps ahead of him.

Instead of a verbal response, Tate raises his brows and allows a smirk to take over his face for a moment.

Now, Violet is thinking of an even better, more obscene, question to ask.

"Have you ever had sex while high?"

Her tone is even and pitch is loud. Violet is not backing down on this war of who's bolder.

"Nope," Tate says, popping the p and staring straight into Violet's light, caramel eyes.

"Have you ever kissed a professor?" He asks, stepping closer to her.

Violet is truly baffled and at a loss of words. He jumped too fast for her to even compete.

"No," she whispers while avoiding eye contact even though she knows his obsidian orbs are focused on her and his shaggy, blonde locks are messily spread across his forehead, which would pull her into a dangerous pool of lust.

"Look at me," the professor demands after moments of silence and heavy breathing.

Slowly, she lifts her head up and scans her eyes over his chest, which is covered in a tight dress shirt and tie, and then to his well-defined jaw line. After, she gradually inches her focus to his strawberry colored lips that appear so soft and puffy. Next her gaze travels to his nose, noticing a tiny brown freckle on the top for the first time. And last, she meets his stare.

The way his eyelashes kiss the skin under his brow and flutter each time he blinks could have Violet in awe forever, but really, she wants to study his eyes until she can spot the pupil and the iris, not just one mesh of the two.

Meanwhile, Tate has taken in her face many times, and his favorite part is the tiny dimples that appears by her lip each time she speaks or slightly smiles. And, accompanying the indentation is her mole, which he finds so sexy.

Something about the small brown speckle is adorable but badass at the same time. Violet is a walking, talking contradiction.

And Tate loves it.

. . .

Minutes later the two are still in silence but the space between them had closed to the point that there's hardly room between their chests and each feel the others breath on their skin.

"Ms. Harmon?" Tate finally lets out.

Instantly, the words gave her a rush of sadness. He's only called her that in public when she would bid him goodbye after their "study sessions".

But Tate knew that it would tip her off, and truthfully, he just loves to push her buttons.

"Next time someone asks you that question, you'll have to change your answer."

And before she could process his words, or even prepare herself for what's coming next, Tate places his eager lips onto hers.

From the moment the two collide there's no turning back. And deep down they both know that very well.

But still, they're reckless. Tate can get fired for hooking up with a student in his office, and it'll ruin his stance as a professional to her.

Plus if anything goes wrong they'll have to face one another in class.

But Violet doesn't care about that, or the fact that she's breaking her no boyfriend/ hook up policy or even that she's mixing business with pleasure.

None of that matters as long as Tate's hands are squirming around her waist and Violet's fingers are tangled in his hair.

Neither of them can visualize anything beyond this moment, lips locked and tongues touching, but why would they?

. . .

After a steamy few minutes of intense making out, Tate pulls apart when he hears the jiggle of the doorknob.

Luckily, just as the two inch far enough to make the scene look normal, it's only a custodian.

So they grab their belongings and quickly exit the building.

And once the fresh, cool air hits their faces, Violet fears it's time to part. So instead of chalking up an awkward goodbye or some sorrys about the behavior, she heads off towards the bus.

But before she can get far enough, Tate grabs her wrist and mumbles, "let me drive you home."

With a simple nod the two are off to find his car.

. . .

"So, where is home?" He asks as they finally exit campus grounds.

Debating whether or not to tell the man she sells drugs to where she lives and keeps her stash, Violet stays quiet.

Finally, feeling awkward, she answers. "You can just take me to the coffee shop."

Thinking silence indicates yes, she falls back into her seat to allow the soft leather to cushion the stress away.

Minutes later, stuck in evening traffic, Violet concocts an idea.

"Have you ever smoked with a student?" She asks, fully aware he'll be caught off guard.

"What?" He asks while turning to face her momentarily and then back to the road. "No, I have not." He quickly adds. "But I'd like to."

And once again, he's beat her to the punch. Now she's unsure if that's an invitation or a statement.

But by the way he misses the turn to go on 75th street, she assumes he's taking her somewhere to smoke.

"You know Violet, I've always wondered what it would be like to be high with you in my presence. How your milky, smooth skin would feel again my palm or how your lips would taste, maybe cherry-like, or even honey flavored with a faint hint of weed. And how the weight of your body would feel on top of mine."

His words are punches as he slides his hand to her lap and rubs circles in the middle of her thigh, careful not to inch too high.

"So, why don't we head to my place and see what the ganja does to us?"

With a loud gulp and anxious mind, Violet nods her head and closes her eyes.

. . .

"I totally didn't see you as a joint guy!" Violet exclaims just after taking a long hit.

Tate only laughs before inhaling a large amount of smoke and holding it in until he can barely breathe.

"I always thought you ripped a bong alone in your room while watching some weird foreign television show," she confesses, clearly becoming high by her unfiltered mouth.

"Come here," Tate mutters, ignoring her random but hilariously accurate comment.

A few seconds later, when her brain registers what he's said, she scoots closer to him and as she does her cardigan falls off her shoulders.

Tate can't resist the urge to touch her skin, a dream he's been wishing to fulfill since he met her. So, he traces his fingers slowly from her collarbone to her shoulders and then tugs the sweater off her and tosses it across the room.

The next moves are so slow but too fast for either to realize how far they're going.

Tate scoops Violet in his arms and places her on top of him, just as he described earlier. The weight of her delicate body is comforting to say the least. Truthfully, he could lie under her for eternity but the next few minutes will do.

However, Violet has other ideas, and so she cups his face and pushes her lips onto his so roughly he's taken back.

And truth be told, Violet is a sloppy kisser while high, but Tate wouldn't want it any other way.

With every move of their lips, the two feel bundles of nerves travel all around their bodies, specifically to their crotches. But when Violet grinds her herself into Tate's bulge he loses all control.

And with a quick, but sloppy, flip of her body, Tate has Violet under him and already she's clawing at his tie.

And when his lips attach to her neck, Violet allows moans to escape her mouth and her nails to dig into his clothed back, as if she'll be able to rip to shirt off.

But when Tate's warm lips leave a trail ending at the top of her breast, Violet begins to sink deeper into her high. The image of Tate and her connected, in all ways possible, is enough for her to be satisfied forever. But her body isn't agreeing with her mind.

And so, Violet yanks the bottom of her dress, pulling as high as she can with her little strength thanks to the weed and Tate's weight.

Tate, still leaving sloppy pecks all over Violet's upper body, doesn't realize what she's doing until she grabs his face and asks him to move.

At this point, the two are so anxious and intoxicated that every move they make feels like a tiny, nerve-filled step closer to orgasm.

As Violet removes her dress Tate stares at the curve of her hips and length of her legs. Everything looks smooth and pale, just as he suspected.

But when she tosses the dress, he gets a glimpse of faded scars on her wrist. And normally he would just ignore them because clearly they're old and not his business, but neither of them has a filter anymore.

"Why?" Is all Tate manages to spit out. In his head he would have been more gracefully but everything is messed up right now.

"Wha-?" Violet asks while ripping the tights since she can't seem to slip them off normally.

Instead of answering, mostly because he can't put his words together the way he wants to, Tate crawls over to Violet, yanks her to the ground, and then grabs her wrist. Next, he flips it so her palm is facing up and proceeds to kiss the small, dull grey-red lines that travel up her forearm.

At first, Violet doesn't know how to react. No one has ever even seen these marks. She hasn't cut since she left California, but when she was fired she added a few before realizing she's stronger.

"Tate..." She mutters, embarrassed, on the verge of tears, and utterly confused. "You don't have to."

But, like always, Tate is persistent and continues kissing every inch of her altered body. And when he runs out of scars to appreciate, he moves on to the rest of her skin.

And so as he lays her down, thinking that she purrs like a kitten for him, he's determined to make her feel special. To allow her a peek into his thoughts of how wonderful she truly is.

So, switching his plan, he kisses down her body so slowly, paying extra attention to her breasts and hips. And when he finally reaches her underwear, he places light pecks around it. And even pokes his tongue where her opening would be.

But what gets Violet really wet, is when he sucks her clit through the cloth and runs his hands down her body.

Meanwhile, Violet is feeling a mix of things but mostly lust. And then she wonders why Tate is still dressed, so, right before he's about to shimmy her out of her panties, she yanks him by the tie and attempts to remove it.

However, being eager, Tate stands up and undresses himself to speed things along.

And then they're back to action.

Tate tears her boyshorts off so fast that Violet is confused when she feels a cool breeze hit her vagina.

But when everything registers, and Tate begins to kiss her inner thighs, she bucks her hips. And never been given cunnilingus, she's almost nervous that it won't look perfect or smell right down there.

But Tate knows it's all he dreamed over. He never wanted a girl more in her life.

So after a few minutes of tongue-fucking, finger-rubbing, and sucking on the small bud of nerves, Violet erupts into a violent, shaking orgasm.

And as soon as he looks up, Tate notices her body turn a light shade of rose and her peach colored nipples are erect and tempting.

But Violet doesn't allow him to take action; instead she shoves him and climbs on top in attempts to ride him.

After some adjusting and misses, Tate's inside. And although he's trying to thrust up, he's weak from all the work he put into Violet. So, since she noticed this, Violet bounces and grinds as quickly and roughly as possible.

Meanwhile Tate is lying under her, staring as she determinedly springs up and down on his cock, and since she's too focused to care about how she looks, Tate sees the raw Violet. The way she licks her upper every few seconds, how her hair is a ratty mess, and even her lipstick smeared slightly above her lip.

Tate realizes then that he loves her. And maybe he's not in love quite yet, but he knows he wants- needs- to be with her because he's never looked at a woman who's such a mess and thought that because of all her quirks he loves her.

As Violet slides off him and into his arms, he thinks to the classic love story and realizes most gave one thing in common: they love each other despite their flaws- but Tate doesn't feel that way.

He loves Violet because of them.


End file.
